


The Gemstone Harem: Beginnings

by IE (Innocent_eyeS)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abdominal Bulges, Alternative Perspective, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Plug, Anal Virginity, Androgyny, Castration, Cock & Ball Torture, Come Swallowing, Come Through Nose, Come in Condom, Commands, Condoms, Covered in Come, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Death, Deepthroating, Diapers, Doggy Style, Double Dildo, Double Penetration, Edgeplay, Emasculation, Enemas, Erotic dancing, Exhibitionism, Extreme Penetrations, Fear, Femdom, Flashbacks, Gangbang, Gore, Hallucinations, Heterosexual Sex, Historical Fantasy, Homosexual Sex, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Intestinal Penetrations, Light Bondage, Lolicon, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Masturbation, Messy, Mild Blood, Mild Combat, Minor Violence, Missionary Position, Multiple Partners, Mutilation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Pegging, Potions, Power Bottom, Public Humiliation, Rape, Rimming, Romance, Scat, Sex Toys, Shota, Slave Trade, Sloppy Seconds, Standing Sex, Thigh sex, Threats of Violence, Urine Swallowing, Voyeurism, ass to ass, female orgasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 87,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocent_eyeS/pseuds/IE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the deserts of the African continent, an oasis quenches more than thirst for wearied travelers. Their wares? Young slaves trained to perform sensual dances, fulfill sexual favors, or simply to offer their company for paying customers. Whether by choice or by force is not the matter, for theirs is the story untold. It is rather the business they've come to serve which earns its place in the scrolls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proper Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> i used to RP this scenario and thought it worth creating a backstory for. it began as a test of my writing abilities, and continues (slowly) for the sake of connecting it with the original scenario in my head.  
> often, each chapter reads as its own scene.

     In ancient times, before nations divided the lands, when people were fit to travel endlessly and never call a single place home, the sanded slopes of Northern Africa saw much of this traffic. Nomads hiked east towards the lush Nile, westward to the Atlantic coast; sailors shipwrecked from Mediterranean storms found a scorching environment as their inevitable burial ground. But to those accustomed to the desert's particular way of life, there were many secrets to be found, treasures to behold, and fortunes to be changed.  
     Every so often, the harshest sandstorms would carve through valleys to unearth the rocky terrain beneath. It is in these places the first wells were dug; and where springs were founded campgrounds were settled soonafter. Passers-by would stop for refreshment, which was not free by any means. An economy was built around the most valuable natural resource, and soon merchants from all around flocked to these oases. For, travelers came from many exotic places, trading whatever they could part with for cool groundwater. Such business would eventually attract thieves, and the luckiest victims of crimes would sell themselves into slavery simply to survive.  
     Like clockwork, each new settlement would follow the same path, 'til slave-trading became a business of its own. Caravans moved animals, men, spices, lumber, and cloth from one oasis to the next, collecting and trading to the greatest benefit of each head merchant. The most profitable of these men were well-versed in the ways of desert life, enough to ensure the health of all valuable members of his party, to be able to thwart theft and defend against marauders, and to effectively swindle other merchants out of their best offers.

     Legend tells of one such caravan-driver whose wealth attracted the attention of truly despicable men, a fearful clan of mercenaries led with the intention of utter destruction and pillage. The markets were cornered, business was in the favor of the highest bidder, and as the caravan entered a bustling town the time was ripe to bring an end to that top-merchant's reign. A powerful desert storm was building in the west, and with sandstone cliffs to the south and steep dunes to the east and north, the marauders began their march towards the caravan's final resting place.  
     But the Merchant was wise, or else deftly mad. At the tip of a village scout, the caravan packed quickly and moved out, westward. For, who would be brave enough to follow them into a storm? Sure enough, when the brutes rushed down the hillside, their target had already moved on. In anger, they ransacked the settlement, taking whatever they could and killing whomever they crossed. With all the devastation they laid, the massive cloud of dust coursing through the valley came with such swiftness and magnitude that they could neither prepare for its arrival nor escape its fury.  
     The aftermath of the storm buried the clearing with so much sand that its true location is presently uncertain. As for the Merchant's troop: some swear they were mercilessly killed the instant they set foot inside the cloud; others say they passed through the storm unscathed and made it to the coast where they bartered passage across the Sea. Some nomads claim to have seen the caravan in travel, a line of figures following the dunes along the horizon. Even some drivers dare to take charge of the title themselves, only to suffer the test of treasure-hungry thieves.  
     Rumor has it there is but one man who knows the truth, a man equally powerful in these parts with enough fortune to summon himself an army. Aye, he was the leader of the company that attacked the Merchant. After the report of the utter havoc that met his hired hands, he took a league of trusted men from his camp and headed to the place where the storm had buried hundreds alive. He spied a kettle of vultures in the distance, which led him to a trail of carcasses and crates most likely left behind by the fleeing caravan.  
     He followed them for days, stowing away what valuables he could from them 'til he came upon an uncharted oasis. There was but one building, a courtyard built about a natural spring and an inner den carved into the rocky outcrop there. Intrigued by this find, he approached the gates as though a mere traveler in search of a drink. A woman greeted him from within the yard, covered head to toe in fine linen. She was tall and burly, a rough sort no doubt learned in the ways of the desert. "What is your business here, stranger?" she demanded. There was no exchange of pleasantries, and names were of little use for what was sure to be a short acquaintanceship.  
     "Could you spare a drink for a few weary souls?" he requested with his calmest countenance. "We've traveled far and wide along the southern route and hope to restock before we head into the eastern doldrums." A flat-out lie, but quite believable given the shoddy appearance of his corps.  
     The Mistress eyed each character over as their leader gave his suspicious response. They were dressed too formally for the long trek he was implying; even the camels they rode seemed out of the ordinary, perhaps bred and trained for military use. Whatever their true intentions, she would have no part in it. "You are not welcome here," she uttered without missing a beat. "This well is private. There is a town two days' travel southeast of here. Surely your men can manage the distance." She gave them all a final glare as if to bid farewell and turned to head inside the cave.  
     _Unwelcome?_ This was the attitude he'd expected to prove his reasoning. He now knew without a doubt that the Merchant was here, hiding within, paying off this innkeeper to hold his secret safe. "Ma'am," he pleaded attention, "Fortune's Fount, the town you speak of? We've followed charts and ridden that route. It is no longer there." She paused in her tracks, half-listening to his words. "We beg you, offer us water. Whatever the cost, we will gladly pay it." He raised a snakeskin pouch from his belt and shook the weight of coin within.  
     Inside her mind, the woman contemplated her options: greater than merely allowing these strangers passage and learning the truth of their presence, she considered the demise of the nearest oasis and what that would mean for future traffic. She quickly worked out a scheme, a master plan, first to deal with these shady men at her doorstep and then to craft a business which would not only satisfy those in search of Fortune's Fount, but would also build a reputation worthy of return customers. The concept of revenue alone was worth the risk of opening the gates.  
     She spun 'round with a slight smile and stated her terms in a single breath: "Twenty-three silver per man, 30 per beast. Leave your baggage and arms in the yard, they will be kept safe. I trust you to make payment before you depart, else your life will cover the debt." She bowed politely as the gate unlocked and was pulled inward by two men. Her hand had motioned to the guards flanking her within the walls, several lithe figures dressed in dark garb that showed only their eyes. The guests led their mounts into the courtyard and sticking to character they gathered refreshment from the fresh spring within the walls. While her guards kept their attention on the visitors' actions, the Mistress disappeared through the doorway of the comparatively dark cave.  
     After a moment near the well, the commander strolled up to the cave entrance only to be stopped by two guards hidden by the darkness within. "All weapons remain outside," he heard the woman call out, though his eyes could not focus beyond the men before him. "I will not say it a third time."  
     Somehow, she knew as well as he did of the blade concealed at his ankle, and in hopes to lower suspicions he did not argue the fact. He removed it and dropped it in plain sight, his group watching from behind as he was allowed entry. They knew he was just as capable of killing with his bare hands, and so they waited outside with full access to their scimitars should he need their help in escaping after finishing the deed.  
     As the man's eyes adjusted, he could see the interior of the cave much more clearly. He peered 'round at all the fine materials that decorated the space: crimson linen draped over ropes together with latticework dividing the area into rooms, golden objects glowing in the flickering light of oil lamps, mauve silken cushions with canary trim providing seating around a sunket pit. The aroma of sage wafted by his nose. Slaves were moving in and out of view, presently adding more exotic pieces to the design. His jaw nearly dropped as he stood before all of that wealthy grandeur.  
     His concentration broke at the words of she who was watching him. "I know why you are here. That twinkle in your eye proves it." She sat off to the side, keeping her eye on him as she offered the seat beside her, a firm pillow atop a cross-legged ottoman. "You have tested my trust," she said as he reclined cautiously, "but do not fear, no harm shall come to you and your men should negotiations go well."  
     _Negotiations?_ he thought. He decided to come clean, as the woman obviously had outside information regarding them. "We seek the Merchant, and I know you are hiding him here. For years, he has horded treasures from the farthest reaches of this desert, putting out of business drivers and trading posts alike; he has even bested thieves who have aimed to restore the balance of the economy. He owes me a grand debt as well, having killed off my workers, a sum I'm willing to settle with his life."  
     The woman grinned at his story's conclusion. "I assure you, sir," she stated respectfully, "that the Merchant you have sought out is indeed here, but first I have a proposition for you, to settle your account and to slake your desires." His glare twisted as he tried to understand her offer, watching as she raised two fingers in the air and motioned for someone to approach. He turned his attention in hopes to have his target in view, but instead caught the silhouette of a female's figure strolling down a hallway marked by thin linen on either side.  
     He straightened his body in uneasy surprise at the situation unfolding. The slender girl rounded the end of the hallway and slowly stepped one foot in front of the other up to him. She was dressed as a bellydancer, her clothes sky blue with fine gold embroidery. A similarly colored veil shielded her eyes and nose as it hung from a golden tiara that covered her hairline. Dark brown strands flowed to her waist behind her, soft and smooth as still water. A tulle ribbon draped from one wrist to the other, fastened to gold bracelets. She also carried bangles on her upper arms, and anklets were all that she wore at her feet, which brought his attention—if only for a split moment—to the glossy rock of the cave floor. The man was surprised to see such detail put into this woman approaching him, yet not even a rug was placed for her path to him.  
     The closer she got, the more he noticed about her. She was certainly very sensual in her stride; a part of him was aware of this since he had spotted her coming through the hallway. Her skin was lightly tanned, and well-oiled, tastefully glistening in the light. But she now appeared younger than he initially caught on to. He barely assumed her to be of teenaged years. As she stood before him within reach, she raised her arms above her and turned her head aside, eyes glancing down her figure as she began to dance for him.  
     As she found his eyes locked to the girl's movements, his hostess smiled and began to state her offer. "I am considering running a brothel out of this location, and I can see you as my partner...." He blinked out of his gaze, turning his widened eyes to the woman. "Business partner," she assured him with a slight smirk. The dancer touched a hand to his rough cheek and brought his attention frontward again, then started to swivel her hips as she slowly rotated her body.  
     "Why me?" he asked, his eyes not even slightly interested in the answer to that question, especially as the girl spiraled her form downward to a squat before him.  
     "I told you," she replied in a calm tone. "To settle your account."  
     He was generally intrigued by what exactly she was getting at. "And who are you to speak for the Merchant?" he insisted, returning line of sight to his hostess.  
     She avoided eye contact but answered him with neither fear nor worry, "Haven't you guessed yet? I _am_ the Merchant." She allowed the revelation a moment to sink in, then explained her case. "A week ago, I drove my caravan from Fortune's Fount directly into the sandstorm. I lost a great deal of my animals, much grain, and several slaves. When the winds subsided, the remainder of us stumbled upon this valley and got to work immediately to secure it. In truth, the aquifer is not far beneath us. It cools much of the ground even beyond the gates I've established."  
     The man was stunned, his feelings now mixed as he sat in her esteemed company. He was certainly the one caught off-guard. His mind was racing with options as she confessed her story. He knew he could not kill her and expect to survive the day. And yet, a part of him found no hatred for her; she was, after all, a woman—with rather masculine features, but female nonetheless. And then there was the point of her intellect, to have fooled even him to the very last minute, that had to be worth something. The more he mulled it over, the less he really cared about avenging the deaths of the army he'd purchased. He was, after all, a heartless marauder bent on getting rich quick. This merchant had a lot of wealth, but much more know-how; she was definitely worth more alive than dead. She had proven herself level-headed, fearless, and perceptive. "What are your terms?" he found himself saying as he silenced a sigh.  
     "You manage the town's perimeter, defend our riches and such, spread word of our location and what we have to offer. Meanwhile, I will make this into a five-star establishment." She glanced over at the girl, who had taken to sitting bow-legged while the two conversed. "All I require is slaves. Young ones—they are so much easier to train."  
     "Hmm," he seemed to agree. "And how do you expect we acquire these slaves, with you confined to this cave?"  
     "I will teach you my trade," she stated plainly, "and you will claim the title you've so graciously bestowed upon me."  
     He liked the sound of that alone: becoming legendary in an instant. As he thought of taking the bounty upon his own head, he was reminded of his squadron outside. "I will inform my men of what has transpired, save your true identity. They would protect my life with their own; I do not doubt their allegiance, only their incapability to keep secrets," he said with a chuckle.  
     A light smile crossed her lips. "So we have an accord?" she pressed.  
     "Indeed," he nodded.  
     "Then there is but one more duty of yours to attend to," she said, bowing her gaze to the girl in blue.  
     The man's attention piqued at the final request. "Oh?"  
     "As my business partner," she continued, "it is entirely your business to...try out the merchandise."  
     A devilish smile curled over his lips in compliance, and the girl sitting at his feet donned a similar look. The headmistress rose up in an effort to give the two some form of privacy, pausing at a final question from behind. "Have you settled on a name for this brothel?" he asked, returning his full attention to the young girl as she pulled her provocative self upright.  
     "The Gemstone Harem," she replied, carrying on without bothering to look back.


	2. A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the Bush

     Upon telling his crew of the situation, the commander was less than surprised at their confusion.  
     "Let us slay him, master! and every last threat in this place," one spoke within their huddle. "His wealth will belong to us and none other."  
     Another shook his head in shame. "You've accepted a bribe from the very man you swore to kill."  
     "Please, gentlemen, I have not turned coat." Their leader tried best to explain his feelings, careful only to speak of the Merchant as a phantom—a man his friends would never get to meet, nor have the pleasure to see in passing. "True, if we were to kill him now, his riches would be ours for the taking. But all that is in this bargain for him is life; for us, it is fortune beyond a single day's raid. You must understand, this is in our best interest."  
     "Employment?" a bold comrade interjected. "We have sworn our allegiance to you, a free man doing as he wishes. And now you have placed yourself under another." Others nodded in shared disgrace.  
     The head of the group sighed heavily. "Men, have I ever misled you before?" he asked, looking across their stern faces. "Why, then, do you not trust me now?" Some men now felt ashamed in their thinking. It would be mutiny to go back on their word to follow him 'til death, even if they did not agree wholeheartedly with his decision. Others, however, still needed some convincing that this path was indeed as promising as he believed it was.  
     He rose to his feet, inviting them to follow into the cave. "Disarm yourselves, men. All I ask is your trust." As soon as they handed their sheathed weapons over to the guards, the two at the doorway parted and allowed them entry. Single-file, the six men entered with their captain bringing up the rear. They covered their eyes to help them adjust to the dim lighting, as their leader called for the headmistress's attendance. "Milady?" he hollered down the makeshift hallway, his friends creating a commotion among themselves at all the glimmering gold and smooth fabric surrounding them.  
     After a moment of servants passing on the request for her presence, the woman entered the room with chin held high, knowing what it was her co-owner would ask even before his men could put the pieces together. "How may I help you, gentlemen?" she spoke politely, a twist considering that the last time she saw them, they received a bout of snobbery.  
     "I told the girl I might require her services again," he said. "Would you be so kind as to fetch her for a show?"  
     She looked past him at the wide-eyed crew, as they were currently preoccupied with inspecting the furnishings. She cleared her throat, gaining their attention one by one, "I assure you, sirs, stealing will not be tolerated, even if you are associates of this man." Many gave her disgusted looks, though they now kept their hands to themselves. "Yes," she said, turning back to her partner, "I will go and send the girl out. Please settle your men at the pit. She will meet them shortly." She gave a slight bow as she left their presence, headed towards the rear of the establishment.  
     Turning to his men, the leader mocked her bow and then strolled over to the area of the pit, the six following in tow. The sunken section of cave floor lent itself well to its converted use. Semi-circular benches were divided by two sets of wooden stairs assembled for the purpose. The men filed down and took seats around a table affixed to the center of the space, a disc of lustrous marble at lap-height. The commander slouched into the richly colored cushions while his men too made themselves comfortable about him. Some reclined, admiring the fine material on which they had seated themselves; others sat up, marveling at the polished stone set a good distance away from their knees. But their sire aimed his sights at the back room, for the most precious treasure was about to appear.  
     A few slaves came forth, dousing lamps all around except those nearest the pit and low to ground level. The shift in brightness brought the attention of all to the now-glowing hallway, with candles behind creating a steady luminescence. The servants dispersed into the darkness as the sensuous shadow of the dancer appeared. "My good men," the commander began, as each alerted another to the female presence, "we have seen many valuable jewels in our travels." The girl strode along, one foot in front of the other, slowly as she was given introduction to the momentous scene. "We have tasted the waters of many springs, eaten the tender fruits of many lands—indulged in the pleasures of many warming nights." Here, they replied with a chuckle dictating recollection. "In this place, such sweetness and satisfaction is embodied as a goddess among the dunes. I bring you the prize of The Gemstone Harem, a recently deflowered junebug—" this brought a blush to the girl's cheeks as she neared the end of her runway, intensified by the sounds of approval given by the others awaiting her glory— "Aquamarine."  
     The men cheered and howled as the girl came into full view, her half-open eyes beneath-veil greeting her clients' as she presented a coy smile. Her pace grew livelier; she bounced along on her toes, adding to her perceived height which was already affected by the sunken level of seating. She stepped down among them, allowing their hands to grope her delicate arms, her flowing hair, her baggy leggings. Her clothing gave off the aroma of cacao, as though it had been submersed in the intoxicating scent. The men were greatly pleased at what their leader had prepared for them, one patting his arm and grinning widely as he thanked him.  
     This being her second public appearance, the girl struggled to keep her sensuality while she climbed onto the tabletop, placing her palms at the edge as she raised her foot up and then pulled herself upright in one streamline movement. Her Mistress had trained her balance properly, it seemed, but her heart still trembled for having to perform in front of so many pairs of eyes. They each looked up at her with the same desirous face, save the pleasantly calm demeanor of her "first," her Master. As she turned 'round at the center of the platform, she imagined all to be Master, and so found the immediate encouragement to continue.  
     The candles behind the walls of linen were smothered. The reduced lighting brought all focus to the girl, the lone sources casting her shadow upward to the cave ceiling in four unequal directions around her. Master quieted his men at a motion of his hands, and they steadily reclined for the show to begin. From her first movement, a tabla drum called out in response from another space. Her hands raised high and her chin as well, the rolling building subtle suspense as she twirled her wrists tightly in the tulle bound to her bracelets.  
     She abruptly tossed her head down and to the side, her hip simultaneously cocking aside, the drummer ever-imitating her body. Three times her head and hips bumped left and right, her slender arms leading straight up. Her pelvis staggered into a circular path, as though she were a wind-up doll. Her torso remained remarkably still as her belly shifted under the sudden hula-hoop motions that her lower half began to take on. The drum notes raced as the girl's hips now jerked and slid to the tantalizing beat: jerk-jerk-slide, a full rotation; jerk-jerk-slide in repetition. A heel raised, knee bent with each quick motion, then slammed the table's surface for the long course. Faster and faster, she gained momentum 'til the drumbeat reached a constant trill. The men pulled themselves closer, peering up the sharp angle of her body and admiring her intense stamina.  
     An impromptu stop and flinging of her head aside caught even the drummer by surprise. The drums took on a different rhythm. She threw the bundled ribbon from her clutch and bumped her hip in that direction. As the material floated downward and her hands slowly with it, Aquamarine silenced her breathing. Then, she thrust her waist forward, a knee bent before she straightened her leg out before her, and her fingers interlocked at her crotch as she began to ripple her slim stomach with the music. Her outstretched heel tapped the marble, each time adding tension to the muscles at her midriff.  
     One man climbed over his comrades to gain a treasured glimpse of her shimmering abdomen; another rose to his feet and stole a grope of her thigh. She broke the moment—if only to prolong the dance for her Master—by spinning her leg about and wrapping it around the other, her toe touching heel before she performed a 180-turn. She met the gaze of the guilty party, flung the ribbon behind his neck as she bent down—those now behind her whistling at the sight she gave _them_ —and tugged him forward to meet him with a delightful kiss. She released him all at once, causing him to nearly topple onto the table, the others laughing heartily at his misplaced balance.  
     Their admiration for her figure's fluctuations fed into her intimacy, which in turn increased their arousal. But her Master kept himself apart from the matter, allowing his men to gain the full experience while he himself simply watched. He was indeed entertained by what he saw, yet having gratified his initial impulses previously—his first in ages with a consenting partner—he would be content to give his men free rein over this delicate desert blossom. And he was certain she would not disappoint, for her duty was as much ingrained in her as was her teasing nature.  
     With her ardor now a staple throughout her actions, the drum's speedy pace had whipped up an energetic fury from within her. She now alternated moves among shaking hips, twirling 'round, and testing her flexibility, all the while using the ribbon as a steady object of focus as her shining skin blurred behind it. In a feat of whim, she backed herself to the table's edge where her beloved Master was seated, arched herself backward in amazement of all around 'til her neck became parallel with her shins, her hands coming down to rest on the bench-backing, and her Master—most proud of the achievement—receiving a deeply sensual binding of lips. His men cheered, mouths gaping, as the drummer wrapped the dance to a close and Aqua led her balance up and over her sweetheart 'til she stood facing them all from outside the pit.  
     The commander shifted to include the girl in his view as the men wildly applauded her exceptional performance. "Gentlemen," he called out over them sporting a grand smile, "is this not the most beautiful creature your eyes have beheld?" He barely finished his sentence before their howls of affirmation roared over his voice. She stood grinning, steadying her breath, nodding in response to their compliments. Her Master called for light, by which servants soon came out of the darkness to burn lamps for the occasion. With the renewed brightness of their surroundings, the men quieted down and reclaimed their seats, their leader motioning that the girl rejoin them, this time among them.  
     As she walked down the steps, the men made a place for her opposite her Master. She sat politely at cushion's edge, continuously smiling at all the joyous eyes that were drawn to her. "You are truly a gift, my child," one beside her said, running his fingers through her hair. She offered a nod of gratitude. "You seem to know very well what pleases us, yet you have not known us for more than an hour. We are truly intrigued by you, Miss..." he paused, leading into her response.  
     Her cheeks warmed with blush and she looked at him shyly through her veil. "Forgive me, sir. I am called Aqua."  
     "...Miss Aqua," he concluded, all of his associates smiling at the tender sound of her voice.  
     Another could not help himself from asking, "H-how old are you?"  
     "Eleven years," she said apprehensively.  
     The men, even their leader, could not hide their surprise. By her skill level, she must have danced all her life.  
     "Your skin is a magnificent shade," said the one whose hand had felt her hair. He now kept his hand against the small of her back. "Where do you hail from?"  
     No sooner had she answered _Persia_ than another man interrupted, "Your eyes! Show us your eyes!" Others agreed, very much looking forward to seeing her face free from cover. She gladly lifted her hands to grasp the edges of her tiara and brought it away from her head, placing it before her on the table as the men showed their pleasure. Her irises were the color of golden wheat, and her small nose had a chiseled structure, the perfect complement to her crisp lips and lean chin.  
     The men began to crowd around her, those who sat further away accusing the others of being greedy with her. The girl smiled at the attention, glancing at her Master across the way as if to receive his input. He merely looked on, a hand covering his mouth as he watched her with intrigue. The man at her other side placed his hand on her lap, requesting her willingness to proceed—for it was not often any of them were in the company of a seductive female truly interested in sexual advances. "Please," he stated just above a whisper, "show us more."  
     She gave a short laugh, dropping her delicate hand to his and biting her lip as she moved it up her leg. She clutched his wrist lightly as he took over and slipped his hand beneath the waistline of her leggings. Her stomach tensed; his fingers traipsed over the soft fur of her crotch and bared it to all as his hand dug deeper. The others looking on elicited sounds of pleasure. Many loosened their robes. The first man at her side left kisses along her arm, the hand behind firmly grasping her hip and playing over her oiled skin.  
     Her breathing became audible, her eyelids weaker. Slowly, her knees parted as a finger teased the area beneath her. She turned her attention aside as a hand led her to lean back; as she settled, the finger played harder, and the hand slid down her side to aid the other at her hip in lowering her pants. The material slipped away, baring equally tanned skin to her thighs. Another man took over, springing her knees together to peel them further down. Yet another helped, tossing her tiara aside as he took the liberty of sitting directly before her—a wonderful sight to behold after he unclasped her anklets and removed the pants entirely.  
     As the finger rubbed through her parting folds, she found herself breathing much more deeply. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something up above her head. She raised her chin to a man kneeling over her, his thick sausage hanging out from his loose trousers and a modest smile running 'cross his lips. She lifted a hand above herself and gripped the semi-hard shaft, leading it to her upside-down mouth. Her teeth played with the skin as it stiffened in her fingers, and she angled it properly before covering it in heated breath. The finger penetrated, her form tightened, and the men catching her frontward display made lewd noises.  
     She felt a warm object slap against her belly; the man beside her began sliding the skin of his length to and fro with his tip pointed at her navel. The finger played around inside her as the man above generously coaxed her to accept his girthy head. He groaned pleasantly as wet lips slid around him, suckling the dark bulb as her hand held him tighter. The man who sat on the table in front of her grunted and tensed as he shot a thick mess of pent-up semen into the air, subsequent streams matching its height before pooling below between his and the girl's feet. He leaned forward in rest, his hand encompassing her knee in its grasp.  
     As the heat of the moment intensified and her arousal fed into her motions, the men grew anxious to be the first of them to take her properly. Her hips took on a fashion of humping. Suddenly, a warm deposit spilled over her stomach, stringing down her side, clumping in her navel, oozing between her legs and catching in her young pubes. The finger pulled from within and the man took her taste into his mouth. She closed her legs and arched her back, then spread them again as her body seemed to reset itself. She wanted release, but it was not her place to ask. She hoped another would give her attention, but the moment was fleeting.  
     The man above her tensed and sighed, then tugged away from her delightful actions before he would not be able to stop it. She reached up after him wantonly as he pulled away, building his orgasm just a mite longer. He unfastened her bracelets and removed the ribbon as those around her began to cradle their arms underneath her, carrying her slender frame over the marble platform where another man had reclined among pillows. They laid her against him as in a chair, taking care to seat her body gently above his bounding prick. He held her waist and hip as she leaned forward slightly to guide the length inside her hungry socket. The others watched as it pressed against her skin. She slowly pushed on it, face cringing as her insides softened up to accept its greater size. She settled back against the man's body as he steadily helped her along, sliding out to loosen her up then refilling the gap at a greater depth. Her eyes shut and she called out a loud gasp as its presence burned through her belly.  
     His hands migrated to raise up one leg, the other giving ample attention to her clitoris. Gasps turned to high-pitched moans, and her depths drooled over his penetration. The others quickly gathered about the two, pacing their masturbations over the girl. Though the desire crossed many of their appetites, none requested oral from her, for the sounds she made were truly what kept them turned on. Instead, they made use of her in other ways, as met their fancy. One claimed a hand, with which she grabbed the shaft but could manage to do little else, especially as the man pegging her had started to build up a rhythm. Another held his swollen tip to her armpit, the sweat-stained warmth of the crevice giving him an enticing sensation. Still another slid himself along the crook of her thigh and abdomen, smearing the slimy remains of his comrade's juices into her skin.  
     Aqua screeched out in ecstasy as she tensed and came around the cock slipping in and out of her. The man slowed a moment, still grinding into her while another climbed onto the table and steadied himself in front of them. Through weary eyes, she looked up and saw the man who had knelt before her moments ago, whose meat she had sampled and would now satisfy fully, though she could not imagine being prepared for what was sure to happen next.  
     Beyond the faces of all those surrounding her, her wandering eyes locked onto the gaze of her Master. _"Surely your beauty extends beyond the physical,"_ she heard him tell her. _"Your body is exquisite, but your skills are even more so."_ In her afterglow, she tossed her head aside and saw her Master again. _"You are a Gem to be prized among the rest,"_ he had said. She blushed at his compliments. She wanted to serve his desires because he made her feel warm and loved. _"Your willingness to put others' above your comfort will stand as a monument to your lasting supremacy. It will establish respect in your order, and you will at last find your needs taken care of."_  
     Her glazed eyes carried through the pressing pain between her legs as the larger man attempted to feed his thickness against the rod already inside her. The moisture of her folds aided some, but his rigidity proved counterproductive. Her weak eyes could focus on nothing; she bit her lip and cringed with each prodigious advance, grunting out as the additional penetration begged entry. Her facial expressions got to the best of them, and one after another two men ejaculated onto her—sticky lines of cum draped over her sky blue top at the same time that others landed across her unblemished face, collecting at her philtrum, dripping into her gaping mouth, clinging to her hair flowing out beneath her. The smell of her clothing finally became overpowered by the lascivious scent of sex.  
     The gloopy sensations were short-lived; her body was soon reminded of the stretching taking place in her nether region. Though the tension was constant, the man's shaft had actually made progress. By the time the head had been buried inside, he was able to adjust his position and force his weight at a proper angle. The girl caught her breath and clenched her teeth, in a grimace not unlike giving birth. A heavy groan escaped her throat and quickly turned to a squeal as tears gathered in her eyes. She was now pinned by two men, the upper now satisfied with his partial penetration. He grabbed hold of her thighs, raising her legs as the man beneath clutched the sticky skin of her waist. The top man pulled out just a fraction of the depth, then pounded in again. He commented on the internal pressure to the others: "She's as tight as a seed in a pomegranate." Some chortled as he repeated his movements, tugging against her inner walls more than sliding along them, though that was soon to change.  
     Aqua was slow to recover focus on the situation. Her diaphragm followed the thrusts of her partners, and she uttered soft gasps each time she inhaled. She finally licked clean the clumpy pile above her lip. Her small opening was surely stretching painfully wide, but as she continued to hold the attention of each of them, her arousal became renewed in their presence. She reached out and invited the man above to become more intimate with her. As her arms wrapped around his neck, he moved his hands from thighs to shoulders and put much of his force into ramming her juvenile pussy. With each inward dive, he raised her frame off of the other man's cock, effectively starting an alternating rhythm between their insertions. This helped immensely as flush after flush of lubrication softened her muscles and made her body ache in a good way for once.  
     She offered the man an ever-present look of desire for him and him alone, and as he returned it with a deeply locking kiss, the two of them tensed and nearly froze in shared climax, her gut squeezing tight as an explosion of cream quickly filled the small spaces within her and the great majority flooded outward in an extraordinary mess. The girl held onto their embrace throughout her own powerful scene of passion, relinquishing her grasp only as the man began to slink away, duly spent.  
     One penis still remained, and now that his comrade had loosened her up, the man found it a much smoother ride. He wrapped his arms across her stomach and bucked his hips wildly beneath her, excess cum pouring from her crotch as he dug deep and pulled out nearly fully. The girl made constant sounds displaying her pleasure, her swelling hole releasing its own version of noises as the man churned up froth inside her. Before long, he reached his time and thrust in deep to spill his brand of sperm into Aqua's elastic receptacle, a thick product that stayed with her as he shrank back and flopped out of her.  
     The two stayed like that panting for some moments, 'til at last the girl's Master approached and offered his hand to relieve her of the position. She sat on the table's edge to recollect her strength, her legs throbbing and stomach pulsing from the unrelenting sex she had received. At the commander's signal, wet cloths were brought for each of his men and the girl. After taking care of the residue in her hair, he mustered up her clothes and handed them over. He kissed her forehead in approval of a job-well-done, then sent her off back to her Mistress. As she hobbled away receiving conflicting glares from other servants, she raised her chin as a queen among them, proud of her efforts that would surely bring fame to her owners.


	3. Just Good Business

     The men set up camp just outside the gates, recounting their feelings about the evening while their leader attended a meeting within the cave. Each gazed softly into the firelight; for some, the wispy flames imitated the girl's dance; for others, the warm air was a pleasant reminder of her body. The day was certainly filled with unexpected twists, but none could deny the fortuitous change of their circumstances.  
     "She is a truly delightful maiden. I would not mind an entire night with her."  
     "Aye, she is quite a versatile girl."  
     "If she treats half her clients as well as she serviced us, we'll all live as kings."  
     "And she will be my queen!"  
     "No, mine!"  
     "Remember, friends, there will be more girls like her. Besides, Aqua shall be mine, and you may each visit her once a week."  
     The commotion they raised echoed through the bleak valley, hearty laughs and conversation made cheery by rounds of wine. The night shift of wall-guards paid them little heed, their Mistress having granted them a higher status as defenders of her partner. Now, she sat discussing with him the particulars of his duties. "Respect," she told him, "is everything to a merchant. You must give it, without ever letting on to your weaknesses. And you must never take on a bargain unless you are certain you will get it." She taught him how to carry himself, how to present terms—how to sense traps and lie his way out from them. Overall, his speech would determine all of his success; the slightest feign of confidence, the smallest bead of sweat, the shortest delay in thought would give away his cover. For his greatest weapon would be the title he bore.  
     Just as foul minds sought an end to the Merchant's "unbalanced" regime, the most exotic and profitable of traders had been pleased to make her acquaintance, for she knew the value of items common and rare, and now she was spending the cool hours of the night to educate her protégé on the basics of these economics. When others learned to associate the name with this man, two extremes would be drawn to his presence: those seeking to swindle him out of a good deal, and those genuinely wishing to buy or sell. The latter meeting would end in mutual benefit, while the former would fool the one long enough for the Merchant to dodge harm.  
     All the while of their conference, the Mistress read the responses of her apprentice, his interest in the matters, his focus on his actions. For him to pull this off most effectively, she would need to place many of her treasures at his disposal, from metals and stones to aromatics and oils, as well as much-helpful manpower. By twilight of daybreak, she deemed him ready for his first task. There so happened to be a camp along the Northern Shores, she told him, a full day's travel from their present location. She handed him a chart and filled him in on the secrets of locating it. "A dear friend resides there. If you fly my banner, he will be expecting you." Before sending him on, she gave him a scroll she'd written to be delivered. "If he welcomes you, take him up on his hospitality. He will be a great ally in our endeavors."  
     As he reconvened with his men outside the gates, rousing those who had lost consciousness, the caravan began to assemble with what valuables could be spared for the outing. Several of her slaves and all remaining beasts would join the supply, for the Mistress knew that they would come in handy when bartering for the life of another. And that was the duty she had charged her partner with, to increase the ranks of those who would serve in the brothel. Ultimately, the choice was left to him, though she had made the pointed remark that "gender is not a boundary, only age is."  
     Half of her guards would also tend to the caravan's defense, and would solely be in charge of survival rations for the group. The leader's men were reluctant to agree to this until they were assimilated into the corps with equal assignment. With all particulars squared away, the Merchant set out on his journey northward, the sun on the rise.  
  
     The trek was smooth and tolerable for half of their travel, but the nearer they came to the coast, the rockier the terrain became. Camels were now cautious, oxen were stubborn, and slaves bore their burdens through added mistreatment. At dusk, the Merchant huddled his caravan 'round a pointed summit, himself scaling its sides to the not-so-distant peak. With lamp and chart in hand, he would use the stars to determine their location and so plot out their next course, while those camped below gained a decent moment to repose and rejuvenate themselves.  
     Within an hour, they continued on their way, 'til at last he halted them atop their sandy ridge. He dismounted and peered out before him, the starry sky spreading down beyond the horizon as it reflected along the Sea's surface. A warm breeze rushed upward at him as his notice was brought to the ground on which he stood. The cliff's edge was abrupt and sheer, and leaning over showed no easy route towards the beach. To the east, the jagged precipice continued as far as the eye could see; yet to the west he took cognizance of the arrangement of hills as the coast jutted northerly into the Sea: a landmark he had been alerted to by the Mistress.  
     Adjusting their course, he led the caravan over to the gentle slopes and guided all to waters' edge. Looking south along the cliffs, his eye caught a grotto cut into the rock. He informed his guards to stay back as he rode in to scout the area. Beyond a small dune, the high-ceilinged cave held a small pool of water. Surely high tide would flood the place; luckily the moon was at the horizon for the time. The landscape fit the description given by his partner, but he saw no sign of human inhabitance as he searched the walls by dim starlight. Suddenly, over the sound of crashing waves, he made out the galloping of horses; he brought his camel through the shallow puddle to the cave's mouth and sure enough caught two riders from the east by surprise. The animals whinnied as they were pulled to a stop, and the men unsheathed their broadswords and pointed them straight out, demanding an explanation for the stranger's presence.  
     "I seek Mikhail," he stated simply, holding the scroll up in view as he sat confidently upon his undaunted mount.  
     "Who told you of this place?" one charged, forming a tighter grip upon the hilt of his weapon.  
     The Merchant raised his chin as he looked off in the direction of his caravan, a stealthy collective standing on the edge of shore and dune some distance away. The questioner followed his line of sight while the other rider kept his attention on the intruder. Each of the Mistress's guards had a familiar banner attached to their person, and as his eyes made out the symbol the rider lowered his weapon and commanded his comrade to do the same. "Forgive me, sire," he begged, putting his sword away. "I was not aware she would be joining us on this night."  
     Their now-guest responded, "She...is not here, but has sent me in her stead. I must hold a meeting with your master. She has entrusted me with delivering this letter." He held up the bound parchment a second time.  
     "Of course, sir." The soldier nodded to his friend, the other riding out to meet the caravan and to bring them in. Then the former dismounted and led his horse and the foreigner into the cave's darkness, 'round a pillar of stone and into a passageway that the Merchant could have sworn was not present before. A faint light grew brighter 'til at last he stood within a luminous grand hall. Two others came forth and took charge of their mounts as they continued walking. Concealed in the cliffs of the desert's shoreline was a small town, a sight that proved too great to take in as he was led directly to Mikhail's chamber.  
     Through a hallway and up a flight of stairs, his escort finally knocked upon an ancient wooden door and stood awaiting response from within. "Come in," a quiet voice called through the thick barrier.  
     The guard swung the door open with a heavy creak and introduced the visitor. "A messenger from Milady," he said as he allowed him entry and soon shut himself out behind him.  
     Within the room, a man stood among shelves upon shelves of bottled brews, ingredients, and concoctions. He held one up to eye level and squinted in order to decipher the label. "One inconvenience about aging is the decline of one's organs," he declared, not yet turning his attention to his guest. "It is a good thing, then, that I took up alchemy decades ago. If not for my potions, I'd have withered away years ago." He finally offered a look and a smile to the Mistress's emissary, who was patiently standing at a distance. "Do come in. Make yourself at home." Mikhail offered his palm up as he showed the extent of his room. The Merchant's gaze was brought upon a pair of girls dressed identically, sprawling in a seductive manner over the comforts of their master's bed. "What's mine is yours," the man pressed, truly requesting that his guest feel relaxed.  
     "Actually," he excused his indolence, "there is a matter of business I must settle." He approached and handed up the scroll, imploring that his host take heed of the notice.  
     The man sighed as he reluctantly snatched the letter from his hand. "Business before pleasure, hmm?" he remarked. "Has she found a replacement at last?" He tore the seal and stretched out the parchment, reading through her words astoundingly quickly. He nodded occasionally, even looked back at his company for the night, 'til at last he lowered the missive to his desk and concluded, "So, it is you."  
     He wasn't entirely sure what was meant by that, but he demonstrated acknowledgement, as if to claim the coveted title of Head Merchant in this man's presence.  
     "Tell me your name." The man returned to his work at hand, splashing a dark liquid into a stone mortar, then dusting a fine powder over it. He swished it around, working it to dissolve before tossing his head back and drinking it down. All the while, his guest hesitated to respond. "You know mine; it is only fair that I gain yours," he stated, placing the bowl upon the desk and turning to approach the man and size him up.  
     "Jahi," he nodded as he made eye-contact.  
     Mikhail looked aside and bounced his head. "Strong name," he'd say as he stepped around him, continuing in his examination. His subject stood straight, as a military man would. "So," he uttered, now at his other side, "she has taught you economics, how to...deal with men. Do you know why she sent you here?" Jahi shook his head. The aged man smiled and made his way back to the desk before them, folding his arms as he leaned to sit against it. "I am her deepest kept secret. I am the reason she has survived the hunts of men such as yourself. I am the Great Doctor, the Dark Scientist. I have explored the magick arts all my life, and now my business lay in crafting elixirs, tonics, and powders with effects you wouldn't believe."  
     His pupil listened intently, stepping forward as the man beckoned his approach and began to show him various mixtures along the bottom shelves. He noticed many of the labels were peeling off, but then his focus came across the words written upon them: Instant Agility, Doubled Fortitude, Pain Killer; Wall of Illusion/ Cloak of Mirage, Hydration, and a particularly ambiguous title simply reading Clarity.  
     "I've yet to find an adhesive that works best for glass, but the endless list of my potions has stolen all of my attention. Perhaps when I retire, it will come to me." He lifted up a bottle which read Secret Vision and whispered a comment, "In moderation, this can be used to see through clothes." His smile grew more creepy than amused.  
     Jahi inhaled deeply and sighed through his thoughts. "So you run an apothecary here," he concluded, watching his latest tutor respond with a nod of satisfaction, "but no one knows where 'here' is."  
     The older man grinned and raised a finger to the point. "You see my dilemma." He turned his attention for a moment, admitting, "She said you were slow, but you may soon be growing out of that. Aye, much of my work would do me no good if I had no clients to sell to and no means to pass my stock on to them. That is where Milady and I have an accord. As her apprentice, you will deliver and sell my merchandise throughout the region, only ever for currency—my suppliers across the Sea are difficult like that. As for you, your first batch of protective concoctions is to be considered a gift in good faith. And in response to this letter," he paused, stepping over to its placement behind his partner, "I will stock your caravan with a few of my slaves for your harem."  
     Both of them brought their focus upon the two others present in the room. They had kept the same symmetrical form throughout the conversation, each with an arm draped over their hip as they supported themselves with an elbow upon a cushion. Their clothing resembled the basics of Aquamarine's aside from the color: each was deep red, also embroidered with gold threadwork, yet no jewelry adorned their bodies, not even a veil to cover their eyes. "I can only spare one of these, though I have others that will require training. You may inspect them before making a decision, if you'd like." Their glances shifted from master to stranger as Jahi approached and sat upon the luxurious mattress.  
     The two were quick to respond to his call; he barely lifted his hand and they pulled themselves closer to meet him. One crawled up behind him, laying her hands upon his shoulders and helping to remove his cloak. The other met his petting hand like a cat, allowing the man to stroke her auburn hair, tied back in a ponytail and curling at her neck. He continued down along her spine as she carried herself low and climbed over his lap. The girl behind laid gentle kisses around his deltoid, sliding her hands within his robe to caress his sides while his hand began to peel back the waistline of the other.  
     As pants slipped down to her knees, she stretched her form even closer to Jahi's lap, her butt sticking out beside him as his touch traversed the fissure of the harlot's backside. Mikhail grinned wide when he witnessed Jahi's reaction, for his hand made contact with the last thing he'd expected to find. He ceased his fondling strokes and pushed himself up and away from the two, who knelt on the bed looking to their master, one now sporting a clear view of the hard-on at _his_ crotch.  
     Through his great surprise, Jahi could not form the words to describe his bewilderment, his disappointment, his demand for explanation, though it was all written upon his face. Mikhail held the man's shoulder and shook him to focus on the justification for his deliberately kept secret. "Forgive me, friend. I did not know you would take the discovery this way," he expressed with true condolence. "But you see how boys can be trained to imitate all the intriguing sensualities of the female body. You will find in your travels that beautiful girls are prime real estate for the business you are running, and so they are extremely rare finds on the market. Boys, however, are much cheaper, and many lusting men will not turn down the opportunity to make use of a hole that treats them well."  
     Glancing at his still astonished face, the older man motioned over to the creature who had been rubbing his shoulders. "If you wish, you may choose the girl," he offered as she straightened up and lowered her pants to display her true female parts. "Identical twins in every way but one. They cost a hefty sum—grown in the mountains of Italia. I've had to alter their heights through puberty to keep them from looking too dissimilar, so neither will grow much taller than this."  
     As he thought it over, considerably less shocked than he was initially, he recalled an adage that the Mistress had taught him, one that ultimately placed beauty in the eye of the clientele and money in the hand of the owner. He covered a sigh through a slightly related question. "The others you have to offer. What is their gender?"  
     "That is solely dependent upon how many youth I have around here. I have a male child to give you at the request of Milady, and a young woman who has proven of no further use to me; she may come in handy in a trade, if you so desire. But that is all I can spare at the moment." He motioned that the adolescents cover up and return to their place, then he brought Jahi alongside to walk towards the door. "Take your time on the decision. I will stock your caravan for now while you and your men rest." He opened the door and led him down to the main hall, where beast, slave, and guard had settled for the time. "I expect your response in the morning, when you set out."


	4. Recipe for Success

     Jahi did not sleep. He sat among the wagons as he watched Mikhail's men bring out crate after crate from the storehouse, filled with sturdy glass containers—jars, jugs, and flasks alike—and cushioned with straw. None of the bottles had labels, but each box was stocked with only liquor of a certain color. Each was nailed shut and stamped with a pigment that corresponded with the potions inside. Yellow, for instance, stood for Clarity, a memory charm for weak or cluttered minds. Black was used for a brew that in actuality was an immensely deep shade of green, a more potent variety of the much brighter Vim&Vigor, which bore the proper green seal. Both offered the benefit of increased energy, under a disclaimer regarding overdose. Red, he'd learned, was a top seller; it marked an aphrodisiac of its own unique blend, sometimes applied in large quantities when breeding beasts, though it was advertised to have no effect upon fertility.  
     Blue was the only concoction not intended for drink. The product itself was a fluorescent azure gelatin for topical application; it worked like a local anaesthetic and so Mikhail had marketed it as Pain Killer, but some of his ruffian consumers had found another use for it which made it more lucrative than any other tonic. Indeed, a whole case of it had been gifted to Jahi and the headmistress to aid in "breaking in" their bondservants.  
     As the men were finishing packaging the last of the cargo, Mikhail himself reappeared to hand-deliver a personal supply of elixirs. "Friend," he greeted, "I trust my workers have brought you up to speed on what you'll be carrying along?" The Merchant nodded in assurance as the older fellow took up a seat on a cart beside him. "There is a greater assortment of merchandise than what I am providing you with now, my friend. When you have committed these five to memory, you will be entrusted with others as demand dictates.  
     "I did promise you something," he said with a smile. He reached into the pocket of his robes and lifted out a fine leather accessory-belt, fully stocked with eight corked tubes. "Not all of my potions are mass-produced. I am giving you a private reserve, four pairs of potions I hope you may never need to use."  
     As he received it, Jahi inspected the holder's craftmanship—its color and texture—before sliding the first glass tube from its slot: the liquid was a bright vermillion. "I take it this is not Aphrodite's Cure?" he asked.  
     Mikhail chuckled lightly. "By design, many of my compounds are clear. I've only added dye that we might be able to distinguish them. Of these four, red is Elixir Vitae, a temporary salve for internal wounding. Granted, it works just fine on cuts and scrapes, but it would be an incredible waste unless you've severed a limb. Consume one of these, and your health—whatever the ailment—will be renewed within the hour."  
     Jahi's brow raised as he slipped the vial back in its place. He checked the next, noticing the similar color before reaching for the third in the packet.  
     "Blue," his master informed him, "is Hydration. Do not ingest this; it is not water, only a means to obtain water. Pour these contents upon solid rock—sand will not do. A spring will form for an hour's time. You will be able to draw from it endlessly until the reactant completely dissolves. I can easily craft this one, should you ever require more."  
     The next pair of tubes contained a translucent syrup the green of unripe figs. Jahi pulled it up to eye-level and observed the air bubble parting upward as he ever-flipped the glass over.  
     "Green is Viper' Serum; it will come in handy as your infamy spreads. Many a private meeting ends with someone poisoned, whether your patron is to blame or his cupbearer. A sip of this each day will help you build an immunity to snake venom, the most commonly used toxin from Western Shores to the Egyptian Delta. But it is no excuse for sound judgment.  
     "The final two are your greatest friends. Use this supply wisely, as it takes some great effort on my part to produce them." Mikhail paused as his subsidiary lifted the seemingly empty bottle from its pouch.  
     "Am I missing something?" Jahi questioned him sincerely.  
     The older man smiled lightly with half-closed eyes. "Shake," he'd say, awaiting the magick. A gentle wobble to and fro created a wisp of vapors within the glass, and as the agitation continued a murky cloud began to fill the tight space. "This is Cloak of Mirage. It is a highly concentrated branch-spell from my Wall of Illusion enchantment. When released into the air in this clouded state, it has the ability to disguise your caravan from any eyes outside the perimeter. The cloud centers upon you and moves with you for a quarter hour, no more. I am presently working to increase that timespan, but it may prove extremely useful should you ever have the need to disappear."  
     As Jahi packed the clouded vial away and began to fasten the belt to his waist, a guard approached and reported to Mikhail. "Milord, the swell is going out," he said with a bow.  
     The master rose to his feet, returned the bow, then turned back to his associate. "Dawn is upon us, my friend. Rouse your company. I must tend to my men as we bring out the rest of your stock." They exchanged nods and parted ways, Jahi to the tent his guards had set.  
  
     As sunlight breached the horizon, Jahi and his men were leading oxcarts through the grotto and out into open air. Within, one of Mikhail's soldiers remained beside a pair of empty carts, ensuring the caravan guards that they would be brought out as soon as they were loaded. Concerned by the delay, the Merchant re-entered in time to hear a loud commotion coming from a hallway, grunts and the clanging of chains as the familiar voice of his host shouted commands.  
     Two escorts brought into the arena a full-figured Amazon—tall, tanned, dark-haired, and bare-breasted, wearing only a charcoal loincloth. Her wrists were bound in shackles, chained to those at her feet. A wooden bit was fastened at her mouth. Each guard led her along with a pole chained to the iron collar at her neck. Mikhail kept his distance as the hunched woman was brought staggering out towards the oxen. He halted the men and rose his arm to call upon an aide. "Bring a cage," he alerted the young man, who hurried along to pass the order on.  
     Men from the stockroom brought forth a series of barred partitions and immediately assembled them within the cargo space of one of the wagons. Jahi approached his stern-faced ally. "You expect me to train this one?"  
     Mikhail shook his head with a heavy sigh. "What you do with the girl is up to you. Several months ago, my men found her locked away when salvaging a shipwreck to the west. She has been kept in my dungeon since. She is strong, cunning, and much too troublesome to remain in my city. Perhaps you can sell her, perhaps not." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "But I believe she has a purpose yet to be discovered."  
     Once the cage was readied, he ordered his men to lead her in. They angled their posts acutely behind her and pressed her on. She climbed aboard without too much trouble; one could say she was elated to be transported, though that was all she could understand from the situation. As she took a seat within, crossing her robust legs, the guards released their poles at the pull of a lever just as the cage door fell into its place. Her cart was then led out to the beach.  
     Mikhail relaxed as the carnal female left his presence, as though he were relieving himself of a bad omen. His mood brightened as he changed subject. "Have you given thought to my proposal?" he asked Jahi with raised brow.  
     His comrade lifted his gaze, having completely forgotten the overnight happenings until this moment. Still, he found his decision laid out for him as he replied simply, "I will take the girl."  
     A slightly disappointed nod was Mikhail's response. He was about to strike up the conversation again, but thought better of it, instead stepping back politely and stating, "I will bring out the remaining slaves." He stepped lively to a hallway and vanished, returning a few moments later with the girl in red, and a blond-haired toddler in blue garb bringing up the rear. He grasped the girl by her waist and lifted her to take a seat atop the wooden cart. She brushed her hair behind her shoulders and softly met the glance of her new master. Jahi nodded before watching Mikhail lift the young boy up beside her.  
     "Is he not too young for this?" he asked, wondering what, if any, purpose the mere child could have.  
     "You will have to ask Milady what it is she seeks from him. She was quite fond of him on her last visit. She requested his deliverance through you."  
     Jahi sighed as he signaled his men to lead the final cart out. He followed them, Mikhail beside as they exchanged farewells up until the entryway, where the older man paused just before the dim cave.  
     "This is where our ways part, my friend," Mikhail stated. "Travel along the beach towards the sun. Before mid-day, you should reach the Port of Good Will. I'd imagine you and your men never entered its walls in your former life; not many thieves are daring enough to risk their lives there. Security is tight. Only honest traders are found there, and there are occasional rarities to be found aboard incoming ships. Keep a watchful eye, but try not to appear too suspicious. If the people there gain your favor, you may draw your own crowds on your next pass."  
     The two clutched hands and patted shoulders, then Jahi headed towards his men who awaited his leadership.  
  
     Mikhail's judgment was fair. By noontime, a mighty fence of vertical logs built sturdily upon the shore drew their attention like fish caught by hook. The caravan found themselves climbing a steady grade as a sea wall to their left formed and gradually lifted their path higher above the water. The cliffs to their right still towered above them, though all could see that the face of the bedrock had been demolished where the fortress of a town cut into them. As they neared, the sea wall gained enough height to buffer the sound of the breaking waves, and the calls of birds could be heard within the city's perimeter.  
     They approached the gateway—a door of cedar trunks reinforced with iron braces—and Jahi stated his business at the request of the sentinel. "I am but a humble driver looking to turn a profit before I head into the desert." He stepped aside and outstretched his arms in motion of offering. "I have cattle, slaves, and magickal tonics to trade, and all I seek are...," he hesitated to admit, "...children."  
     The gate moaned as it was pulled inward, the guards atop the wooden scaffolding eyeing the stranger as he led his entire troop into the Western Courtyard. Travelers within exchanged glances as the Merchant circled around to the now-closing doorway, his own guards tending his wares as shepherds to a flock. He stood before the soldiers at ground-level and bowed in greeting. "Could one of you fine gentlemen chaperon my crew and I to a location where I might set up shop?" he asked as formally as he could muster.  
     They all looked at him as though he'd asked them for their weapons. "We are not allowed to leave our post, sir," one answered. "If you head down to the dock, you'll likely find a place for your tents."  
     Jahi nodded as if to say thanks, and raised his arm to signal his men, leading them northward. As they moved on, one of his friends came up to his side, saying quietly, "You look uneasy, master. What ails you?"  
     He responded with a smile to show his good spirit. "I did not realize how much it took to be cordial." The other's frown turned to a laugh as he pat his back then turned to tend to the caravan. The streets led them to a grand plateau, fenced off before the view of the dock, stretching east into the distance. Many a ship were gathered at the farthest reaches of it, and that is where the commander aimed to gain business. As they hiked along that wall, they passed countless buildings with stone-and-mortar walls, wood-and-glass windows, roped-thatch roofs, even flowerboxes and smokestacks. Perhaps one day he would rent one, retire in this town on the beach.  
     A quarter of the distance across the city, a lone ship in harbor at this point, they reached a chasm in their path with guards all around, one raising his palm to call the approaching driver to a halt. "The elevator is in use. If you wish to descend your wares to the dock, you may wait until nightfall or else try the next lift." Jahi bowed to him and continued to lead his men around. This was the first of three freight elevators in the city, a grand display of platforms and gears and pulleys to move all manner of goods from town-height to sea-level and vice versa. Rounding the wooden scaffold that buffered their distance, many gained view of the shacks and tents set up on the shore, spiring logs forming a crane prepared to transport cargo off of the vessel, and once again the sound of waves rolling upon the beach.  
     In a bout of increased vehemence, the leader made good time in reaching the next elevator, here a stage of wooden beams with the dimensions of a house. With no shallow words, he requested use of the device, to which the head guard informed him of the need for two descensions. When asked the price of such a task, the guard responded with a chuckle, "We are glad to provide this service for our customers."  
     Together, they divided the weight as half of the caravan was brought onto the platform, and within 10 minutes they began their descent through many creaks and groans, from beam and beast alike. The floor remained level throughout. Beneath the scaffolding, Jahi admired the inner workings of the mechanism built up against the rock wall that fortified the town above. With an echoey slam, the wooden rectangle nestled into its crevice, and all caught their balance before heading down the ramp to the sandy shore.  
     All at once, the babble of busy conversations hit him. Jahi greeted all wandering eyes with a smile, hands upon his hips as he surveyed the bustling marketplace around him. Several more ships were docked here. People passed by lugging crates, hauling sacks, leading goats. Vendors advertised precious metals crafted into plates, teakettles, and figurines; musical instruments, accessories, and fine silk; dates, pistachios, melon seeds, spices; cured meats and produce in brine. He marveled at all of the tents and shops, none lacking activity. As the remainder of his wares was brought down to him, he thanked the soldier and tipped him generously, then headed east along the shore to stake claim to the nearest open plot.  
     They traveled for some time, even passed the furthest lifting machine, but their hopes only increased as they parted crowds and attracted a following. Finally, an opening Jahi judged large enough to squeeze into. They dug posts into the ground, unloaded merchandise and arranged them by type, unhitched oxen and wheeled carts out of sight; strung up tarps and set out lamps, laid down a rug and even a welcome mat. Many people watched in awed silence as the caravan seemed to unfold before their very eyes. Mounts, beasts of burden, and the caged woman were guarded outside the tent, while their leader administered the decorative set-up of all else he had to offer.  
     The sun grew golden in the sky as the first customers began to peruse the shop's items, and Jahi sent his six trusted friends to scout the sales around. He had told them to keep an eye out for slave-traders, though he admitted to himself that he had not noticed any on their journey down the shore. It worried him not. There was much to do, building up a reputation in this grand harbor. Selling Mikhail's potions was the key to his title; only one desert merchant had this quality of brews to offer, and he had plenty of stock to draw in business. Yet decidedly, his tent was the most extravagant, inviting customers inward to a room kept separate from the busyness of the dock, where buyers could keep their undivided focus upon his wide array of commodities.


	5. Inspections

     As days passed, Mikhail's concoctions nearly sold out, and more and more of the headmistress's belongings found new owners. Even the rug which had adorned the ground within the tent was traded away when Jahi finally packed up and alerted all that it was time to move on. Slave-traders, as it happened, were quick to move inland, as the best deals seemed to come from disreputable men who traversed the scorching dunes, folk who found better value in fickle load-bearers than stubborn mules and steer.  
     And so, after five days within the walls of the Port of Good Will, the caravan set out on a clear night through the city along the southern road, a steadily rising incline flanked by terraced houses all the way up to the Southern Courtyard. It was the most direct route into the desert with the cliffs extending so far along the shore. The nearest charted village was at least a two-day journey to the southeast, with a well that had long since dried up, but many still flocked there for the ongoing slave auctions run by the East Abd Faction. As they exited the gate and walked once again upon the sand dunes, Jahi made this their destination, setting a course by the stars and hoping to make good time in the cool, dark hours.  
  
     Days turned to weeks back at the Harem. The Mistress's servants had been busy expanding the area within the cave as well as without. They had mined away at sandstone and carved out private rooms, waiting to be furnished as soon as the necessary supplies were purchased. The debris collected from hollowing out the caverns was used in making walls, to increase the plaza's perimeter as well as build animal stalls for customers.  
     Daily, guards took up posts among the dunes surrounding the valley, constantly on the look-out for travelers, familiar or strange. One fine day, a pair of soldiers riding horseback came down from the north, men of Mikhail in search of the oasis. By the command of their Mistress, her scouts raised banners and flashed a sword in the sunlight, drawing the wandering riders first to a halt and then to a beeline.  
     As the horsemen galloped down the final hillside, the settlement's founder stood just within the wide rock archway, no longer protected by iron gate. A sand-colored fabric was stretched over the much larger courtyard, held up by a stone pillar protruding from the fountain's center. The canvas was not entirely opaque, and so kept the area beneath well-lit; nor was it without purpose, for the shade it produced was pleasantly cool and it drastically reduced glare before one's entry within the cave. But the tented space outside was fine enough for this delightful meeting.  
     She greeted them with a bow as their horses trotted up beside. Each carried a large chest at their lap, one a scroll; as he handed it to her, guards accepted the deliveries, two per box as they lugged them into view of their Mistress and held them up before her. She nodded to them as she unbound the note. Mikhail had written of "innovations from 'cross the Sea," which he had kept to himself until the knowledge of her particular establishment had reached him. He continued:  
  
_Some of your clients may carry these on their person. I have crafted some of my own for your business, many made of flexible rubber but some glass. I have also included objects of my own intricate design. I believe you will understand their purpose when you inspect them. They are all contained inside the red chest. May you also find use within the black. It is a fetish I choose to indulge in from time to time, and I do not suspect it to be quite uncommon. All sorts of men will arrive at your doorstep. May these tokens of gratitude help you to tame their lusts._  
_My scouts have alerted me that your caravan explores the East. The boy travels with him, as well as another I've graced him with. I do hope he learns to take my humor well! It would be an unfortunate circumstance if he trades away the Italian._  
_Upon the return of my messengers, I shall draught up charts with your precise location and forward them to my scribes. Within the month, I'll see to it that your brothel is known throughout the farthest reaches of this desert, and soonafter you should expect to receive a steady influx of customers, myself included. I presently have other work to attend to, but will be making arrangements to visit. Send my regards to your driver. By my calculations, he should be returning to you in a matter of days._  
  
     She rolled the parchment and tucked it into a pocket, then turned to unlock the black chest as the riders peered down, anxious to see what they had been trusted with. The hinges ran smooth as she raised the lid. Inside were several bunches of rope, cord, and colored ribbon, presumably of varying lengths, and two smaller boxes beside. Glued to the underside of the cover was a note defining the contents. She sucked her teeth through a fiendish smile as she dropped the lid and moved on to the scarlet container. She could only envision what useful treasures lie in wait, and at the rising eyebrows of Mikhail's men she opened the trunk.  
     It was stocked with tray upon tray of cast-rubber cylinders, extremely phallic in form and color-coded by size, it seemed. They ranged from hand-length to arm-length, the width of two fingers to a hand-breadth. The bottom-most tray would contain strings of beads and other unique creations courtesy of her supplier, as described on the note within this box. There was also a cache of square bottles which he would restock as needed—half of them filled with a "cleaning product," the others with what appeared to be a lubricant of sorts.  
     Slowly but surely, the scheme of her business was pulling itself together. After replenishing their water-supply, the horsemen left to continue their mission, and the headmistress returned to her duties, bringing the chests along for a closer examination.  
  
     During the midnight hour of the second day since Mikhail's delivery, watchmen called out at the spotting of the caravan, rising out of the flat wasteland of the eastern doldrums. They lit torches for the occasion, roused the headmistress at her request, and even Aquamarine could not be contained as excitement overtook the entire camp. She stood beside her owner beneath the tarp as Jahi headed his band down the sandy slope.  
     He was amazed to see how much the oasis had changed, _The Gemstone Harem_ carved into the arch and the letters bestrewn with shards of glass which twinkled in the flamelight of the welcoming bonfire. Likewise, his partner's eyes grew wide at the sight of the giraffe being led over the dune behind him, and could not ignore it even as his camel neared and the joyous shouts of his men grew louder, the tail end of his convoy still scaling the ridge.  
     "You've bought a giraffe," the headmistress stated plainly as he rode his camel beneath the awning.  
     He hopped off his mount and handed the reins over to a guard. "I bought a giraffe!" he answered, an even wider grin coursing over his lips now. Aqua could not help but giggle, covering her mouth as she did so.  
     The woman would have questioned its purpose, but she did not feel an overwhelming need to put a damper on his mood; she would let it slide for now. "What else have you brought to me?" she asked, noticing that many of her servants had been replaced by new faces.  
     "Many young slaves for you, Milady," he said, outstretching one arm and folding himself over the other. He then clapped his hands twice and turned to his own men, who proceeded to bring the children forward, along with the oxcart that carried the Amazon. Those who were free to move aligned themselves in display—two familiar faces among seven, eight including the caged girl. "Four male and four female."  
     Jahi followed them down the line, characterizing each as he went along behind them. He placed his hands upon the shoulders of the Italian girl, a blush as deep red as her clothes crossing her cheeks. "These three were generously gifted by our friend to the north. The boy from Germania, Mikhail said you'd requested him." He was three years of age; rather shy, he stood staring at the flame of the nearest oil lamp as he suckled the finger in his mouth.  
     "The girl behind was more or less dumped upon us, though I had not the heart to rid myself of her." The Mistress's eyes locked into a gaze with the bestial creature, as though each were attempting to read the other. "The utmost care will be put into guarding her, but mark my words she will stand broken one day."  
     The teen in his grasp folded her hands in front of her as his hands flexed against her. "This one hails from Italia, 13 years, fair skin with a fairer attitude. I've decided to call her Ruby, if Milady agrees." She did, with a nod, but held her tongue for the time, knowing the child's secret. Jahi moved on.  
     "This Egyptian kitten is also 13, but with much finer olive skin." Black hair fell to her waist, contrasting beautifully with the white robe she'd donned. "Her coarse hair speaks of her desire. I have grand plans for this one." Seductive eyes seemed to smile after him as he passed his hands from her. He stepped along and stood beside a tall, broad-shouldered tomboy with short blond hair; she was sold to him nude, though he'd given her a length of green fabric to wrap herself in. "I've yet to see her smile, or hear her voice. I don't know her age, but her former master informed me she was born in Siberia."  
     The remaining three were boys. Jahi was not particularly keen on owning them, but he had to admit they were all inexpensive purchases. Each wore nothing more than a loincloth which covered only the bare minimum. "This boy is soft-spoken for 16," he said of the one in dark green. He is from Arabia. His blackened skin is only matched by this eunuch from Ethiopia." The next stood tall and unabashed in his shimmering silver cloth. "He is 17 years and well-built. Perhaps you can use these two for labor," he discerned.  
     The last boy stood with shackles clutching his wrists. He was rather pudgy all around, and dared not to look anyone in the eye. "This one is from Palestine. He tried to escape more than once, but never again. May he remain in chains as long as he resides here."  
     His partner remained silent, finding no issue in his decision, though they would need to discuss several things before they would officially open for business. Mikhail had given them a month, but experience had taught her that he was often ahead of schedule. She would expect the Harem fully prepared to receive a customer in two weeks' time.  
  
     The owners led all children single-file into the cave, leaving the caged girl under guard for the time being as all other free hands tended to unpacking the caravan. Inside, Jahi was proud to notice the improvements that had taken place: curtain dividers were replaced with actual walls, cemented together and smooth, formally delineating the hallway. The sunken pit remained intact, while the large space at its opposite contained a large stage for multiple dancers. Rooms for more intimate privacy had been hollowed out, with inlaid shelves for candles and incense, and enough floor-space for a single mattress, once they got around to fabricating each.  
     She had a cellar in its process of being carved out, and immediately decided that with enough materials they would be able to convert the space into dungeons to hold the Palestinian and the Amazon. For the moment, however, they assembled all of the children in The Room of Preparation, where they would be inspected, appropriately clothed, named, and otherwise made property of Master and Mistress.  
     Each was weighed and measured, defined and structured, and all of their features recorded in individual reports. Everything from height and physique to hair and skin color, and especially the sizes of their sexual parts. Jahi did not take it well when the Merchant finally spoke up regarding the Italian, and needing to see it for himself was not perhaps the best means of learning the truth. Twice he had been fooled, and more than twice the two had shared mutual arousal. After such a painful realization, he kept to himself while the lady continued the examinations.  
     They received names based upon the colors they had been dressed with, though their actual style would probably change, at least in part, when it came time to choose their final wardrobe. The youngest received the name Sapphire; the Siberian, 18 as had been deduced, was to be called Peridot; the Italian kept "hers," Ruby. To the Arabian, Emerald; to the eunuch, Mercury; to the shackled, Amber. The Egyptian was given the respectable title Diamond. The caged girl, whose exam would come soon enough, they called Jet.  
     With the obvious now out of the way, they would move on to creating profiles by exploring their reactions to the sexual. Needless to say, Jahi volunteered to take exclusive care of the three females, one of whom he was already quite fond of. Aqua's exceptional skills as a dancer had previously been established. Her Master and lover took it upon himself to publicly depict her as a virgin, though she clearly no longer was; he vowed that henceforth she would only share intimacy with him, and as such would be bound in a belt of chastity whenever she was to exhibit herself for anyone.  
     The Mistress fabricated a similar case for Sapphire. The toddler was certainly not at all expected to be a prodigy in this line of work, and though he lacked desire as well as a practical attention span she decided that he would be raised among the prostitutes 'til he learned to at least imitate their ways. Still, his body would not be trusted with any man just yet, so he too would be protected in public. She need not humiliate him at the moment, but in time she would perform the equivalence of molesting him.  
     Mercury, she concluded, would be a more difficult Gem to work with, for though he had many more years than Sapphire, he too had no lust within him. She had an inkling as to what her co-owner was thinking when he bought this particular slave, but aside from completely disagreeing with his choice she would keep the teenager in the business if only for the challenge his condition presented. When she had attempted to measure the length of his organ, he did not gain an erection; regardless, it was quite impressive. The more time she devoted to thought, the more she saw his appeal towards a female mind, so she could only hope to one day receive such a client.  
  
     Standing behind her, Jahi undressed Diamond slowly, peeling her robe over her shoulders and sliding the cloth down her sides and in along her thin waist 'til it bunched up at her hips. He squeezed it around, loosening her rope-belt, and let it all drop swiftly to the floor. Without hesitation, he knelt and landed kisses just above her backside, a gentle crook in her spine there which she accentuated in reflex. His hands held her body firmly: thumbs at her cheeks, fingers wrapped 'round to hook at her pelvis, her stomach flattening as she arched over him.  
     Aqua looked on, imagining his fingers caressing her body instead. The girl was shorter than her with a similar frame, but her ass was more plush and almost begged for the attention Master was giving it. Her hands migrated to his head and clutched his hair, tugging at it while his fingertips brushed her tender skin. He pulled up his thumbs and angled his hands as a V into her crotch, passing over her patch of hair—which would soon be removed—and backing his head out of her hold in the instant the girl's reaction caused her to bend forward.  
     Jahi wasted no time in returning his mouth to her, this time headed directly for those pursed lips before him. Gripping her thighs, he sent his tongue between her labia and down beneath her hood—she would need to be cut before the Harem's opening. The girl gasped aloud as his action sent a quiver through her legs. With nothing in front of her within reach, she held her hands to his wrists, delighting in the rapid movements of his tongue flitting through her moistened corolla.  
     He paused suddenly as a knock came to the door. Diamond panted and begged continuation with a short breath. "Don't stop," she'd whispered, receiving her wish only after her Mistress moved to answer the call. Jahi forced his tongue inside and uttered a stifled moan against her rump, enjoying the taste of her nectar. Many of the others watched them, but Aquamarine turned her attention to the door, quickly finding herself uncomfortable in such proximity to the other girl's pleasure.  
     The Mistress had just removed Emerald's covering when the knock sounded, and he stood shyly encasing his hands around his package as she walked off to the door. She gripped the latch and brought it ajar, peeking out to speak with the guard. "Pardon me, Madame, but the man's friends informed us of a crate from Mikhail." The door swung open wider as the woman requested that he hand it over. He lifted the box and a metal crow atop as he hesitantly obeyed, his ears catching the naughty sounds from the situation within. As he backed away, she brought it in and closed the door, the decibels all but fading into the solid wood.  
     She placed it upon the desk and pried it open. Amidst bottles of blue goo and packing material, she found a note. She unrolled it and, tuning out Diamond's exaggerated screams, she began to read:  
  
_Pain Killer._  
_The necessary catalysts for inducing numbness to a specified area reside in the same compound responsible for its glowing nature and thick consistency._  
_External application follows: Spread evenly over one's skin and let sit for 60 seconds or until due tingling sensation begins to fade. Wipe away and discard excess. Residue will become clear in time, at which point desensitizing enzymes will no longer be present._  
_See reverse for important information regarding internal use._  
  
     She turned it over:  
  
_If applying rectally or vaginally: Let sit for 20 seconds then cleanse with douche until fluid runs clear. Do not administer orally or nasally. If swallowed, consume milk and/or induce vomiting. Contact with eyes may cause blindness._  
  
     The Mistress recalled selling this jelly across the desert, but its range of usefulness had certainly grown in a way she had not expected. She had thought of applying it as a normal pain-killer for her Gems, but now it seemed she could use it to prevent pain, and that increased its value in her eyes. She covered the crate and situated it atop the red chest of goodies; it would come in handy when it was time to test the children's physical limits. For now, only their characters need be determined.  
     Diamond became more vocal than ever when she climaxed, muscles tightening as her chin raised and she bellowed out like a cow. Even Peridot shook her head at the drama, but the boys were all intrigued. The Mistress approached Emerald again, physically turning his attention towards her as she parted his hands.  
     He had become aroused while watching Diamond and the Master, and as she moved behind him he glanced over at the two again. "Do you like her?" a soft voice came to his ear. He blushed and looked straight again, his member only raising higher. "Why don't you say hello?" He looked aside a moment and then shook his head. "No?" She switched the ear in which she spoke, this time deliberately directing his focus upon the girl who was enjoying a finger along her slit. "Wouldn't you like to be in his position? Your body is saying yes."  
     Just then, his eyes dropped and widened at the sight, covering himself as best as he could without fully touching his erection. "Come," she told him, gripping his shoulders and pushing him along though he blushed deeply and tried to walk in any other direction. Jahi slipped his finger out and stepped aside, allowing the woman to pair the two up. Diamond looked back to see her Master standing idly; she barely noticed the dark-skinned boy approaching her backside, but the instant she felt his hands placed upon his body—for the Mistress had to coax him every step of the way—her desire took charge and she pushed back until she met his thighs.  
     His uncut cock was as upright as could be. Every so often, it would land against her ass, but it would quickly bound upward in front of him. "She wants you," the voice behind him said, hands now smoothly rubbing his upper arms. "Why don't you answer her? Show her how much your body wants her?" His heart raced, his eyelids grew heavy, and his mind surrendered long enough for him to retract his hips. His Mistress took it upon herself to push his penis down in line with the correct entrypoint, then used her own force behind to ease him inside the girl.  
     Diamond took to it quickly, indeed pressing against the boy faster than he ever would have and perhaps more than she could painlessly accept. Emerald's gasps were very feminine, almost drowned out by the girl's slight whimpers. He froze within her, his foreskin no doubt peeled back against her tight walls. She, however, started the pace and kept it going, wincing each moment she pushed his penetration deeper.  
     With the Egyptian girl now passionately taking lead, the Mistress made it her intention to pair up the rest, with Jahi giving his two bits where it counted. Aqua no longer cared for Diamond's pleasure-seeking attitude, so long as she was not getting it from Master, and Ruby shared an equal attraction for the man, rarely taking his eyes off of him since their meeting. In hopes to appeal to Jahi, the woman joined the two together before heading off to get to know Amber.  
     Aqua and Ruby seemed a perfect match right from the start: neither dominated, neither held back, both were intimate, both were indulgent. Neither was hesitant to fulfill their Mistress's expectations, and so their hands quickly explored the other's body as they embraced in an open-mouthed kiss. Even their Master granted them multiple glances, fighting his mind to understand Ruby's true gender, for the boy's figure, face, and actions continued to support that which was contrary to reality.  
     After shaking his attention away from the enticing twosome, he stood before Peridot. The top of her head came up to his shoulders, though to be fair he wore riding boots, and she had been barefoot since her purchase at the auction. Jahi reached for her garment and began to unwrap it from her frame, revealing her soft, medium breasts, her ample waist, her waxed mons veneris, her toned legs.  
     He tossed the green sheet away and held out his hand to the standoffish maiden. She peered at him through sky-blue eyes and slowly laid her hand in his palm. He side-stepped and led her in front of Mercury, the eunuch, as tall as she and perhaps as cold. Their eyes met, then each looked at their Master as he proffered a deal. "If you will not speak, then your mouth will fit another purpose. See if you can't arouse this creature to orgasm," he said, nodding to the boy as he went aside.  
     Peridot narrowed her eyes at his request, her cheeks not lifting in the slightest as she incuriously accepted his challenge, for that is what it was. Jahi did not think it possible, but these pairings would help he and his partner determine what each Gem was capable of, physically as well as mentally.  
     She dropped to a single knee in front of Mercury with a hand upon her thigh, her eyes level with the short, wiry hairs of his crotch. She raised his flaccid manhood, the length of her hand from wrist to fingertip. His wrinkly scrotum hung empty beneath as she leaned close and prodded her tongue at the base. She held it lightly, letting it rest upon her face as she licked along the underside all the way to its skin-bound head.  
     The smell was foul, but the young woman opened her mouth and took him inside without giving it a second thought. She sucked on his tip like a novice, cheeks collapsing with suction as her hand gripped his shaft midway and peeled back his folds of skin. Mercury fidgeted with his hands as the girl cleaned sweat and grime from the nozzle of his hose-like appendage. The pink skin was sensitive at times, but his body did not burn with arousal, not as any full male would gain from such treatment.  
     With three duos in motion—the screams of the ostentatious Diamond suffering her umpteenth "climax" just as Emerald exploded a sizable deposit within her tightness; the juicy lip-smacking and sprawling hands of the "lesbian" make-out session; the systematic attempt of an oral virgin to spark desire in a boy less manly than Ruby—Jahi approached the Mistress to discuss the nature of those in chains.  
     "I have been thinking. We should not waste time tending to Amber and Jet. Their interests do not matter," he said plainly. "These Gems, yes. We can limit how they are handled such that none are ruined for the next customer. They represent our investment in this house's fame."  
     She looked at him, then down at Amber. She thought the boy alluring, a delightful butterball with incredible potential; she had found him extremely docile during his examination, so she could not imagine what had made him try to flee. "You said you would break the Amazon," she recalled in attempt to remedy the decision. "Is this no longer true?"  
     He sighed heavily and paused, then dodged the question. "These children are worth pure gold. They are diverse enough to appeal to any travelers who come our way. The unbroken minds will take too much effort when we could be better training these six."  
     "Seven," she corrected him. "The young one will learn to take after the others." She remained silent a moment, then concluded, "We will draw a line between those Gems whose well-being we wish to preserve. But let us allow harsher treatment of these restrained slaves, and perhaps our clients will do the work for us. Savvy?" Jahi hesitated to nod. The option was worth a try, but he truly wanted to ensure that each of the others would be performing at their best when the time came for them to serve a paying customer.  
     The Mistress smiled before losing her attention to the eunuch and his match. Jahi turned about, astonished that the boy was now huffing while motioning his hands above the girl, as though unsure if he should or could grip her head. She had sneaked a finger into his anus and begun rubbing his pleasure spot from the inside, all while playing her tongue under his thicker cap and stroking his now-rigid piece of pipe.  
     He clenched his teeth and inhaled abruptly through them, jerkily closing his form centered upon his pulsing member. Peridot popped him from her lips and continued to work her hands against him. The black-skinned boy showed all the telltale signs of orgasm, yet it was significantly less messy; it certainly appeared and sounded intense, but all that his shaft could expel was a dribble of clear liquid, slick and shiny. The girl pulled each hand away as Mercury stumbled backward to the wall and slumped his weight down to the floor.  
     She turned and peered up at her wide-eyed owners, her own expression still as indifferent as ever. Jahi could only raise his hands and slowly clap for an unexpected affirmation to his request.


	6. A Slave's Training

     As the Gems lay sleeping in the next room, the owners discussed their findings and the training that each child would require. Jahi was extremely pleased with Diamond's work ethic, but his female counterpart remained sensible. "The girl is wild. She has physical beauty, but all for naught if she so freely degrades herself."  
     "I beg to differ, Milady. A man would be well-pleased to come across a girl so willing as she."  
     "Willing she may be, but she must learn to restrain herself—her voice—if she is to bring us much profit here. Our customers will pay by the hour, and a quick fuck with a bargain tramp is not the kind of reputation I am seeking to build." Her eyes grew worrisome as she continued to press the issue, "She _must_ be disciplined."  
     When she saw that her words were not getting through to him, she calmed herself and changed tactics. "Consider Aqua. When you presented her to your men, she held control where it mattered and submitted in due time. She presented herself formally and allowed them to take the first steps." Jahi nodded as he recalled the memory. "It is that sort of refined attitude I should hope any to expect of a girl of my harem."  
     The man excused his judgment, "Forgive my obtuse analysis. I only meant that—" he paused, now choosing his convincing argument to better explain himself, "in my experience, a girl with desire such as hers is a welcome change of pace."  
     "From what? Rape?" she said, raising her brow and again her tone. "Dear sir, do not make the poor mistake of asserting your supremacy over women. You forget that I bested your men at Fortune's Fount, and I am responsible for how this establishment will operate. Granted, many travelers will come through with one thing on their mind. But those who make return trips will do so because my Gems will be trained to please them beyond the sexual. You believe this, else you would not have made the bold decision to keep Aqua chaste before our future clients.  
     "Now, the girl will learn self-control by my hand, and it shall take as long as is dependent on her. She has the figure of a dancer, and so she shall dance. I assure you, she will live up to the name you've bestowed upon her—as an artist, not as a slut. I do not want to hear another word about it. Have I made myself clear?"  
     He closed his eyes and sighed out to her, "Understood, Milady." He could not argue with her. She, too, had a plan set out in her mind the moment she saw Diamond. He began to figure what sort of girl his partner would consider a slut for the Harem. Peridot certainly had not the body for a dancer, but neither did she have the attitude for sex; just about all she had going for her at the moment was her obedience. And he didn't even want to think about placing any of the boys in that position—though she might.  
     "Good," she nodded. "Let's move on. Ruby is a fine dancer, of this I am certain. He and Aquamarine will be our only Companions should we have a customer before our true opening."  
     Jahi tilted his head. "I'm sorry—Companions?" he interjected.  
     "That is the title I am giving to those Gems bound under a unique set of limitations, to...preserve them among customers. They are distinguished from Amber and Jet."  
     "And what are they to be called?"  
     "Slaves." Sensing the confusion in the man's mind, she explained her reasoning. "True enough, they are all our slaves. But for the purpose of selling their services, Companions demand a certain level of respect—as our property and nothing more," she added. "The Slaves, however, may be treated to whatever degree of punishment our customers desire.  
     "So, for instance, if a Companion is not glad to oblige their master's order, it is either a failure on my part as their trainer, or the action is illegal. If the latter, I expect you to deal with it as you see fit."  
     He scratched his chin and looked at her, "And if the former?"  
     "Trust me," she said with a smile. "That will not happen."  
     "What of Emerald?" he responded. "The boy does not have a confident bone in his body. How would you train him to obey against his nature?"  
     "Harshly. He must learn to act, so he will be punished for inaction," she said simply before glancing at the hourglass upon the desk's edge. "Let me worry about the logistics of training. Within 24 hours, you will be traveling southward in search of more slaves. A few more will do, preferably ones I will not need to train. I hope to open doors by the time of your return."  
     She continued, "While you are gone, I trust your men to stay here and test these Gems in your stead. Each child's performance will be monitored so that I can further my reports on them. I wish to provide a conclusive profile of each for any of our customers to make a selection off of."  
     Jahi nodded in acceptance of his assignment as the two rose to their feet, their discussion drawing to a close. "In the morning, I shall begin training sequences while you sort out the cargo for trading." He nodded again and left the room, out to rest until sunrise.  
  
     By mid-day, the oasis was bustling with activity yet again, valuables and materials being unpacked and space among the caravan being consolidated. The headmistress's workers had labored all night retrofitting the cellar to serve as a training area, but it still required an appropriate holding cell for Jet. For the time being, the slave remained outside among the men's mounts, like an animal caged for show.  
     The other Gems—save Aqua and Ruby—were soon to be disciplined according to their reports. Each was stripped and stood shackled-and-chained by wrist and ankle. Sapphire was simply bound for the purpose of display, for his training would prove to be more psychological than physical.  
     As the door to the stairs creaked shut, the last of the workers leaving her in peace, the Mistress sat upon a wooden chair before a sturdy wooden table, reading by lamplight her report from the night past:  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Amber_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Slave_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** disobedient, pleasant_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** anal exercises_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Aquamarine_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Dancer, Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** Ready_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Diamond_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Dancer, Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** Wild_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** Aphrodite's Cure, full dose; pleasure denial - 2 days_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** Pain Killer, glossal application - indefinitely_  
                                                   _ **Other:** circumcision, waxing_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Emerald_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** shy_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** Pain Killer, rectal application; anal exercises_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Jet_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Slave_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** disobedient, violent_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** beasts; immobilization - indefinitely_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Mercury_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** cold_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** Aphrodite's Cure, half dose - indefinitely_  
                                                   _ **Other:** circumcision, waxing_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Peridot_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** obedient, cold_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** test for sexual stamina - 10 hours minimum_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Ruby_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Dancer, Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** Ready_  
  
                                                   _ **Identity:** Sapphire_  
                                                   _ **Class:** Companion_  
                                                   _ **Summary:** inexperienced_  
                                                   _ **Treatment:** none_  
                                                   _ **Training Method:** Pending_  
  
     She checked off Aqua, Ruby, and Sapphire and decided to continue alphabetically. She laid the parchment upon the table and stood tall before her slaves, tucking the chair under and stepping back so that the oil lamp flickered between them. It hung by gold chains, and there were three others like it in the room, each casting its faint light towards the ceiling and a warm glow upon furniture and faces. The walls were lit by a canal of oil inlaid around the perimeter; but the floor—the uneven rock cool and slick from condensation—was all but dark, the film of sweat catching light at only the perfect angle.  
     The woman undid the rope binding at her collar, pulling her hood back and proceeding to remove the dark cloak from her shoulders. The attire she had chosen for this occasion was immodest at best, and no other soul would see her in it except those whom she would train. It did not reveal much skin, but the leather suit was comfortably fitting from bosom to thigh. As she folded her cloak and placed it upon the chair, twisting about to do so, it creased and rubbed within her knee-high boots.  
     A series of laces held the oufit together as it hugged her hefty bust and gave her impeccable cleavage a generous lift. The skin of her bare chest was fairer than that of her face, so much that it seemed to glow brighter in contrast to her dark clothes. Her shoulders were covered by the leather as well, with long black gloves hiding any skin where the garment had ended. She slipped a black ribbon from the robe's pocket and pulled back her curled brunette hair into a bun.  
     She stepped 'round the table to the chests and crate that had been brought down earlier. She raised the lid of the red one and sorted through the objects within, laying out one of each type upon the wood surface in view of many of the Gems. A blue one, then a green, then a red—each successive dildo longer or wider than the previous. A purple with two heads, long enough to bend into a circle; a black half its length but twice its girth; a solid glass one with median thickness and a slight curve to it.  
     Then came the beads: several cords of five or six orbs, colored like the phallic toys and measured by the largest ball attached to each. The blue, for instance, ranged up to the size of an olive; the green up to a chestnut; the red, a walnut; the purple, a lemon; the black, a pomegranate; and the glass, again, simply solid and unyielding. There were other items inside—"pulsating" and "inflatable" devices, as deemed by their creator—but those seemed too pleasant for this session. For now, many of her methods would be borderline _torture_.  
     She glanced at the upside-down report, making note that Amber would not require any additional treatment, so she would not need to open the potion crate just yet. Moving the rest of the clutter to the far end of the table, she singled out the purple objects as she made room enough for Amber's short stature to lean against the surface. She called to him and he gulped in hesitation, now nervous as he took a small step forward from the others, the chain between his feet scraping the ground. She turned to face him and gazed directly at his eyes. "Do not fear me, boy. If you do as you're told, things will go smoothly for you."  
     He forced himself to take another couple of steps. Standing before her, he barely reached her sternum. He held his fingers as his hands hung in front of him. His golden skin caught the lamplight beautifully; that alone gave her conflicted feelings over his status, but she knew how resolute her partner was on the subject, enough not to cross him for the boy's sake. Instead, she would train him to accept his circumstance that he may tolerate whatever treatment he would later receive.  
     She reached beneath the hem of a glove and pulled a hairpin to view, then crouched to insert it into the lock of his shackles binding his feet. She removed them and tucked the pin away again, keeping his wrists chained as she piled the metal links upon the table and then commanded him to bend over it. He raised his arms, walked up to it, and leaned over, his eyes focusing on the glistening rubber tools that she had chosen for him. She pushed upon his back until he was flush with the wood surface, and held her fingers there lightly as she opened now the black chest with her free hand. The woman pet her sweet touch along his arm and began to loop a rope around the chain which still bound him. She wrapped it 'round itself as she pulled it taut—stretching his arms towards the opposite edge—tied a knot, and further bound each end to a table leg.  
     She walked around to view his face, for once catching his attention as his eyes seemed to speak worry; she merely offered him a smile as she brought another length of rope into his sights. She crouched beside him, bound the rope to an ankle, and wrapped it around one table leg and then over to the other, spreading the boy's footing as much as possible before tying it to the other ankle. As she raised up, her fingers trailed his plump skin, teasing his inner thigh as she positioned herself slightly beside him, then tapped her hand against his soft cheeks, a surprised gasp from the boy following the light _smack_.  
     His Mistress now leaned over him, his face turned away in shame. She played her middle finger inside his crack, prodding the tight hole for entry. "Relax, dear boy," she whispered. "Enjoy yourself and there will be no pain." She jabbed her digit inward against his resistance and he began to whimper. She pulled it out and played there again. "I have all patience in the world for you. Your clients will have none. And your cries will not cease their abandon."  
     She forced within again, the leather-clad appendage chafing his unprepared anus. He held back the sounds of his discomfort; he found her words agreeable, but also found it more difficult to relax that part of his body. She dug as deeply as she could, causing the boy to answer with a sniffle that echoed through the dank room. "Crybaby," a voice muttered behind them.  
     The headmistress turned her head as she simultaneously raised up, her hand still hooked at Amber's rump. She glared over at Diamond, whose unimpressed countenance dictated her great boredom. The girl shrugged and continued. "It's just a finger," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.  
     "Young lady," her Mistress sternly scolded, "you will mind your place and hold your tongue, or I shall cut it out." She crossed her arms and sighed as she obeyed, but her expression remained.  
     The woman returned her concentration to the boy, rolling her eyes as she cleared her mind of the interruption. As she slipped her finger out this time, she pulled back towards his tailbone; his insides had moistened slightly, but she still found him resisting play. She knew what sort of practice would help him ease up—attention in the opposite direction—but she did not want to give him the wrong impression. For his own good, she would avoid providing him with such direct pleasure.  
     "You are softening up," she told him. "Perhaps we should move on, hmm?" She lifted the plum-colored pipe and playfully laid it upon the boy's spine. He could feel its length, straight from neck to buttocks. "I believe you can take this entire piece of equipment." His arms tugged on the rope and he shook his head defiantly, his black locks trembling. "You don't think so?" she asked tenderly, gripping one end and wriggling it between his cheeks. "This is quite flexible, you know. And your insides curve about. You may be surprised what your own body is capable of, my dear."  
     The phallic tip pressed firmly against him as her other hand helped to part his plush hindquarters. Its length slid and rolled over his back as she turned it gently, rubbing into his natural lube—what little there was—before popping his sphincter open around it. He made fists, curled toes, and tensed hamstrings as he answered the insertion with a sweet grunt, tears surely beginning to well. She didn't stop: once it broke through, she curved it out and began feeding the dildo into the boy's rectum.  
     It was as wide as three of his fingers, two of hers. His tightness clung to it and pressed inward as she snaked it deeper. As it prodded his inner walls, his body jolted in discomfort. She started to retract it, pulling his hole outward from his cheeks as he left a shine upon the penetration. Halfway back, she changed direction and forced it inward again. Not even a quarter of its length had explored him, and he was speaking up to plea against it. "Don't..." he'd uttered, not liking that feeling of it bottoming out within him.  
     She ignored his request and instead angled it from the left as she pushed it in. The rubber arced inside him and grazed along the side of his walls as the tip headed into the next passage of his colon. His asshole was the most sensitive part of his body right now, continuously rolling along the dry insertion in an almost numbing manner. It was less pain than mere friction, and pressure against his rectal walls, and deeper still inside his sigmoid flexure.  
     It did not hurt as much as he'd thought, for he couldn't feel how far it was actually traveling. It pressed into the next turn with some more visible discomfort. She began to twist it as a corkscrew until the head would find its proper angle; his reaction to the rolling and spinning within his entryhole was a slight groan, and nestled between the wooden surface and his soft tummy grew a delightfully warm erection. His Mistress continued the motion as the penetration delved further, for it smoothed its travel much more better than simply pushing inward.  
     By now, Amber's body realized it could do little to inhibit the intrusion taking place; indeed, his innards secreted a pleasant slickness that aided in and sped the process. In a matter of seconds, the insertion's length bottomed out and gave him discomfort for a third time, but here it had no room to curve deeper. The shaft scrunched where it could, prodding his furthest depths with a painful cramp.  
     Reading the boy's squirms and breathing pattern, the Mistress pushed the remaining palm-length inward, stretching his hole only slightly more as she stuffed the opposite head into his rectum. As soon as it disappeared, she gave his ass a sharp spank, which caused him to yelp and tense, his hole closing up suddenly.  
     She gripped his buttock and squeezed his pliable skin, admiring the jiggle his pudginess offered. "Good boy," she commended, rubbing her hand in a circular fashion before giving him another spank that made his torso jolt forward. Amber gasped and allowed a smile of satisfaction to raise his cheek. "Now push it out," she told him, gracing her middle finger over his scrotum in a teasing touch.  
     He raised his chin and turned his head to face his Mistress, her hand pulling away from him and resting on her hip. With that cute smile and mouth agape, he watched her as he relaxed himself. The purple object peeked out as his hole opened once again. His insides squeezed against it and forced the bent end outward, stretching him wider than when it went in. The tension released and it popped out of him, then steadily snaked its way out and curved downward behind him. Halfway out, it slowed, and through calls of approval he continued to push on it 'til the entire shiny length slinked out and bounced upon the rock floor with a wet _thwap_.  
     "Perfect," she'd say as his winking hole drooled its slime down his crack. With little hesitation, she took the similar-colored beads in hand and placed them upon his back as she'd done with the previous toy. "Now we'll test your capacity for stretching. Think you can fit all these?" she asked him, to which his reply was a proud sort of nod. She smirked and popped the initial orb inside with no trouble at all.  
     The second ball was as thick as the dildo he'd just discharged; that, too, slipped in quickly. The next gained the slightest resistance, but as he started to close around it, she followed it inward with a finger, ensuring enough space for the next in line. This was marginally larger than a clementine. His Mistress peeled his cheeks apart to give it just the right access to his pink hole before forcing it against the boy. Beneath his body, a droplet of sap formed at the tip of his prick as this orb began to grind along his perineum before opening him up just wide enough to have the rest of it sucked within.  
     His rectum now felt as full as it had moments earlier, with each of the beads jostling around as his body tried to condense their collective form. The woman took the final one in hand and let it hang by its string down against his diminutive ballsac. His hole winked once again in anticipation. "You want this one, don't you?" she remarked. He hesitated to nod, his arousal now taking over with the movement inside him. Physically, he wanted to expel the insertions, but secretly he wanted the pleasure that came with that feeling of being stretched.  
     She spanked him hard, watching his pucker tighten on the cord and then relax again. "You're much too loose. Why should I give this to you?" She spanked him again, and his eyes rolled back a moment. "Tighten yourself," she commanded the boy, rapping her hand along his alternate cheek again, and again. With each slap against his bare skin, a ripple passed through his plump sides and the purple ball bounced with his reflexes.  
     After a few more slaps, his hole closed up and the raw skin pulled inward. She raised the sphere with four fingers and forced it against him, not bothering to part his buttocks this time. It felt as though she may as well attempt to penetrate his navel; the dry object mashed up against his soft ass like it were trying to meld with his skin. His hole could not be found, but the pressure of it was unrelenting.  
     "A tight sex hole is a challenge," she said aloud for all the Gems to hear, "and many men will not accept defeat under such a circumstance. If you can control these muscles, you may save yourself from true pain." The Mistress spoke down to Amber again. "Now open," she ordered, still forcing the ball into him.  
     He did so in the only manner he knew how: he tried to push out what was already within him. His moist pinkness would roll outward and kiss the blockage, the plush bit of skin there now channeling the pressure into that spot. He rested a moment, his hole closing up, then thrust another contraction upon the orb. It slid and smeared against his lubricated anus, steadily squeezing within his crack little by little. "That's it," she cooed over him, watching it become oblong in shape as part of it disappeared between his cheeks.  
     It tapped against a smaller object that his body had tricked into escaping. He caught himself and tensed a moment, sucking it inward along with much of his wetness. The largest toy continued forward, however, the front half of it now slick with his juices and able to part his sphincter on its own. She pressed with all the might of her fingers, against a sharp pain that built around his hole as it spread to its widest and blushed a bright crimson.  
     Amber stood upon his toes, raising his rump and arching his spine a bit, the tip of his cock chafing as it pointed down into the table. His hands clenched, his eyes closed and jaw quivered as he hesitated a sigh, and his anal muscles seemed to pop inward as the girthy penetration split his cheeks to lodge itself inside—but it wouldn't budge. The other beads within had already filled his rectum; press as she did, they would not make way for this lemon of a plug.  
     "Push," his Mistress hounded him, certain his body could still accept it—though it would not be pretty. He forced himself against it, his throbbing ring rolling outward ever so slowly as it began to encompass the rest of the ball's surface. One by one, the woman removed her fingers, 'til she held the toy in place with only her middle finger, the boy's anus protruding slightly beyond his tailbone. "Now tighten," she told him, watching as he grunted in doing so; his body gaped around the insertion though not enough to release it. "You will hold these in, understood?" He nodded wearily, immensely aroused and yet focused upon the stabbing pain he'd endured.  
     She picked up the double-long dildo from the ground and placed the cooled rubber perpendicularly across his back, petting his shoulder pleasantly as she stepped 'round to the crate of potions. The boy would remain there—on display, as it were—while she tended to the other Gems' training. The Mistress would have great fun sticking it to the Egyptian. "Diamond," she called, wiping her gloves upon a cloth before raising the lid and rummaging through the bottles, "come forward, please."  
  
     The girl obeyed silently, remembering the woman's threat earlier; she did, however, show more interest as it seemed her appointment was up. The headmistress had spoken in bluff then. She knew the repercussions of such an amputation, and the girl had much too much potential to risk losing such a valuable body part. She had planned, instead, to numb her tongue to the point where speech was embarrassing at best, though she'd never attempted to use the blue potion for such a feat.  
     She lifted a bottle of Pain Killer from the box. With a fresh cloth in hand, she popped the cork and tilted the glass container to serve a small deposit of blue jelly onto the material. She balanced the stained fabric upon two fingers and bent down before the girl. "Say 'ahh.'" As the girl did, her Mistress smeared the gelatin around and under her tongue. Her eyes began to tear as the compound took effect quickly, attacking her nerves and disabling their receptivity.  
     The woman placed the jar and cloth upon the table, then helped herself upright again. "Ih fih wih," Diamond voiced around a suddenly immovable tongue. She took a moment to catch what she'd said, then panic ensued as she discovered her inability to speak coherently. She held a hand to her chin and struggled to ask what was done to her, her eyes welling up as distress filled her heart. Her mumbles soon slurred as blue saliva spilled from her lips, for she'd also lost her ability to swallow. She blew spit outward and franticly beat upon her trainer's body, before the woman gripped her arms and tossed her aside to the cold, hard floor.  
     She pointed a menacing finger down at the cowering girl. "You _will_ learn your place. Right now, you are as worthless as that girl out in a cage. If that is what it takes to keep you in line, it will be done. Is that clear?" The girl simply froze, her face shimmering with tears and snot and drool. "Get up," she commanded.  
     Diamond struggled to pull herself up, her entire body trembling in fear and anguish, her chains lightly clattering to the effect. She stood, clutching her sides, a worried gaze fixed upon her Mistress who was now pulling a length of cord from the black chest. "Arms up," she demanded, then looped the cord through the chain and up over to a ceiling hook towards the perimeter. With the girl now directly beneath it, she pulled it taut and tied it off, Diamond's arms raised high above her own head. Next, the woman brought out an extendable bar with leather cuffs attached to each end. She got down and fastened the device to the girl's knees, adjusting its length to keep her legs spread.  
     Every so often, the girl allowed drool to escape her mouth, dripping downward in long strands as she leaned forward to keep it away from her unblemished skin. Her Mistress vanished behind her, lecturing her once again. "You will not speak, whether you are spoken to or not. You will find any other way to communicate, but not with your words." Suddenly, a hand landed sharply upon her ass, her muscles tensing as her body swung forward. "You will be punished for your insubordinance," she said as her hand slammed into Diamond again, "and you will not—" _smack!_ "find—" _smack!_ "release," _smack!_ "until I deem you competent."  
     She walked around in front of the trembling female over to the table and retrieved a bottle of red liquid. In its proper dosage, the aphrodisiac would arouse one's sexual desire twofold, heightening senses and sensations, as well as increasing build-up of climactic secretions and, in some individuals, affecting the ability to attain multiple orgasms. For the girl's body-weight, a handful would be enough, but her Mistress would see fit to give her the prescription for an adult. She grasped the girl's chin and thrust it upward as she poured the liquor down into her gullet before releasing her to coughs and drools once again.  
     "Well then," she said, landing the flask upon the wooden surface and spinning 'round to address her slaves. A broad smile gleamed across her face. "Who's next?"  
  
     With the most forward of them incapacitated as a rising need stole away her focus, the remaining Gems were silent as their Mistress passed glances across each. "No volunteers?" she teased. There was an extra pep in her voice now that Diamond was receiving her just deserts. "How about you, Amber?" she asked the boy stretched over the table, his body showing signs of stress over the task with which he was entrusted. He met her gaze, but appeared to be in his own world, as if all her words were dulled in his ears.  
     Her sights continued along to the report upon the table, and her mind began to work out a scheme for the slave next in queue. "Emerald," she called sweetly, the boy's eyes flinching in recognition and a blush spreading over his cheeks. She looked to him and motioned her hand before him. "Come hither, my dear." His limbs were visibly trembling as he willed himself closer, hands interlocked hiding himself, his gaze deliberately avoiding anyone in particular.  
     "You need not be ashamed in my presence. Stand here." She pointed at her feet. "Turn around." He faced the line of Gems. She pulled his hands apart and peered down his body, craning over his shoulder as his blush spread. Diamond's sight locked onto the boy's soft member, and moans escaped the girl's throat as her body began humping the air. Just a taste, just a touch, just a whiff of his pheromones—that's all her mind asked as her eyes glazed over. The woman ignored her.  
     Instead, she slipped her hands down to his shaft and raised it in her grasp. She squeezed and rubbed it, thumbed the soft head beneath its skin-shield; he remained flaccid throughout, as though he were purposely diverting his attention, but she kept at it. "Tell me, my dear," she spoke quietly into his ear, "what is your fancy?" His eyes flinched again, as if he were intrigued by her inquiry. "You enjoyed last night, did you not?" She continued fondling him, suddenly bringing a rush of blood to expand the organ.  
     "But perhaps the girl was not to your liking." Diamond would certainly have taken offense of this, if only her ears allowed comprehension of words not directed at her; as it was, her mind was becoming more carnal as time wore on. A part of her loathed her predicament, for if her hands were not tied up, or even if her legs were not kept spread apart, she would have been able to indulge in her mind-numbing lust for touch. But in truth, it was only a very small part of her that felt this way, for the grand majority of her thoughts were becoming overrun with hallucinations and fantasies and wet dreams.  
     "Perhaps you would prefer Amber, here," the Mistress suggested, exciting a deeper part of Emerald so as to straighten his cock within her hold, a near full erection though still a bit pliable. "Is that what you like? Another boy to play with? Look into his eyes and tell me what you see." The younger male, bound to the table and stretched in more ways than one, seemed almost as distant as Diamond, but for strenuous use he could not escape. Emerald offered his attention, but it could not be told whether he pitied the Palestinian, or envied him.  
     "Do you know what I see?" the woman asked, tightening her clutch as she stroked his length with a steady pace. "Here is a slave by choice, who knows what he's good for and is pleased to obey orders. But you," she paused, suddenly clamping a tight metal ring about the base of his manhood, pulling his attention quickly back to himself; she continued, "you would perhaps be better off to trade places with him. That is not your vocation, however."  
     She retracted her hold on him, and his hands instantly felt at the ring, first attempting to loosen it, then trying to slide it off. With his focus completely upon his new binding, his Mistress reached into each of the chests and raised out both an assembly of leather straps and a green dildo, which itself seemed a replica of Emerald's size. She fastened the harness upon her body, securing the phallus in its place, and returned to the boy still struggling to pry the warming metal from his prick.  
     Fighting a bit of resistance, she tugged his fingers from his preoccupation as she commanded him to stop. Without explanation for the restraining object, she simply directed him behind Amber's plugged hole and forced his attention upon it. "If you want something to pry at," she said calmly, "be a dear and help remove these." He stared at the unearthly shape of the smaller boy's asshole, straining to contain five orbs inside his limited cavity. His skin was deep red over the large protrusion, brightening up to the internal lining that hugged it tightly.  
     Emerald hesitated to touch him, prodding a finger instead against the plum-colored rubber that the boy's body could not seal off. He poked it, bending his finger when it refused to move. He played along with his curiosity and tried to push it deeper so that the boy could clench shut; he merely grunted as the ball squashed against the others within, pressing into his inner walls painfully. The woman behind him sighed and redirected his actions, "They will not go in. You must get them out."  
     He cringed his fingers back, as if afraid to actually touch the boy. She was growing restless. "You will do as you're told," she stated, offering him one final chance to step up before she would quite literally hammer the concept into him. He opened his trembling hands and hovered them over the boy's rear, but could not bring himself to touch him.  
     His Mistress took him by the waist and pressed her green appendage up between his legs. His surprise was expected, as were his resisting motions and whimpers, such that she disregarded his apparent virginity for the sake of discipline. Had she more patience with him, she would have recalled that she meant to apply the anaesthetic, or at the very least some lubricant to lessen his struggle. He gritted his teeth and tried to turn aside, but she held him in place as best as she could 'til her new addition stabbed at his tailbone in a manner that made him contort his body.  
     She took the moment of his spasm to grasp the dildo and press it lower, meeting the dimple of his anus, before forcing it inward against his bodily pleas. The extent of his vocal objections were coy grunts and squeals as the smooth rubber head broke into his tightness. He locked around it with his clenching hole, but she pushed it steadily deeper while he echoed its travel with a long, breathy sigh. His toes were curled, his fingers as well, and his limbs were robotic in angle and movement. A tear rolled down his cheek as the piercing pain stuck with him.  
     Just about the only part of him that was not adversely affected by the foreign penetration was the raging erection held solid by a small loop of metal. It kept the blood within his tissues, kept his veins pumping inward, chiseled its appearance so that none of its pristine shape was hidden by soft layers of skin; it seemed to extend him and add bulk to his head, which blushed deep violet, almost fully revealed by his tube of foreskin. Diamond's mind began to melt at its presentation, and a continuous drip of saliva rolled out from her gaping mouth.  
     The Mistress prodded Emerald's deepest recesses and pushed even further, 'til at last the boy willed his hands upon the other's rump and blindly peeled his thumbs at the edges of his prolapse. His back remained arched and teeth grinding as his interior softness adjusted to the burning intrusion. The woman peered in front of him and smiled at his delayed attempts to obey her command—and attempts they were, for he had not the focus to make any progress.  
     She chuckled beside his ear. "You're cute when you're angry," she told him. "But you must learn to take commands when they are first given. I can break your body, or your will. Which do you choose?" As usual, and especially under the circumstances, the boy gave no response, though his mind worked hard to distinguish which would be the easier route, or if in fact the one would lead to the other. Presently, all he wanted was to return to only a minute prior, where pegging was not detracting from his thought, and he would gladly relieve Amber's pressure.  
     But they would not be going back. She knew how to read people, and he had made it clear his preference for other males. Now it became her goal to limit his means of arousal. He would be trained to enjoy this feeling, much like the boy strapped to the table, and release would not come easy—and not at all during this session. She would find it an improvement if he learned not to resist, though it was unlikely he would ever beg as the Slave was apt to do.  
     She pulled back—his body still tightly sticking to the shaft—and popped the bump of a tip out from him, letting him close up before forcing it inside again in the same tantalizingly slow thrust. His voice repeated its grunts and groans, heavy sigh and sudden whimper. His cock pointed even higher into the air as she jerked the full green length upward into him and seemed to lift him off his feet. He balanced upon his tiptoes, his calves tense and tight as his frame contorted backward again. The tension of her penetration was comparable to stretching chewing gum. By her third inward plunge, he never loosened any more than the first; and even the sixth push was no improvement; and the ninth was as slow and forcibly grinding as to make the boy cry out in agony.  
     Somewhere along the way, Amber was finding it incredibly difficult to keep to his duties. Whether it was numbing pleasure or sheer anticipation, his straining muscles gave way and steadily released their grip on the objects plugging his rectum. As the lemon-sized orb spewed from within him, the boy's mind blacked out and his body took control, sending out one after another the smaller beads behind it and letting them bounce to rest upon the floor.  
     His hole rebounded slowly into place between his plush cheeks, worn and soft and relaxed. It was moist and pink, coated in a shine of its own drippings, and its delightful appearance was not about to be wasted. The Mistress, with toy lodged deeply inside the dark-skinned male, ceased her motions and commanded him to fill the void before him.  
     Emerald struggled to compose himself, maneuvering his hips as best he could while remaining attached to his owner. He rested a hand upon the unconscious boy's backside, the other directing his veiny member down to the awaiting hotspot. As his peaking tip made contact, his abs tightened with a pleasant gasp, the tender warmth alerting his nerve-endings that this indeed was a good feeling.  
     The woman left him to his own devices, admiring the boy's advances by the same angle and only lightly caressing his shoulder with her cool breath. His eyes rolled into his head, his lids half-closing, his jaw dropping as he moved inside the soft chamber. Neither resistance nor pressure met his solid prick; only heated air beyond the seemingly fluid membrane that Amber's sphincter had become. His shaft became instantly covered in a smear of wetness, as though the younger boy's ass were servicing him with a blowjob. His bulbous tip halted and retracted a bit at the touch of his inner wall. It felt as though a blazing fire was melting away the boy's insides.  
     He turned his head slightly and looked at his shoulder, the whisper in his ear seeming to dictate his thoughts. "What are you waiting for?" He watched her hands slip from his own waist and smoothly slide over his shackled wrists to clutch Amber's form. His eyes closed and he groaned out as she pressed his body closer, melding his sensitive cap with that molten wall, until its softness and heat encompassed the bare portion of his tip and began to stretch inward. It was the first moment of friction he encountered, and it continued 'til his length was in to the hilt, the golden pillows of soft flesh mashed up against his pelvis.  
     "Now," his Mistress whispered, reaching for the purple rubber tool that had been resting upon Amber's back and pulling it out of the way, "we'll make this easier for you, hmm?" Her voice was sweet, her instructorship returning to the matter. She led his wrists outward, coaxing him to lean forward while his legs were sandwiched between the two. He hooked his hands at the boy's shoulders as she too folded over him.  
     She pulled the toy halfway out from him, Emerald answering with a staggered gasp. "Move your hips," she cajoled him. "I'm sure it feels delightful inside him. It would feel even better for both of you once you start moving." He pushed down on the boy lightly as he began to slide his body backward, 'til he felt his asshole tugging the dildo out of place. He grunted uneasily and pressed himself forward again.  
     Feeling the tension on the penetration, his Mistress hushed him and brought a hand upon his side. "No no no," she comforted him, her hand slipping down to rest beside his buttock. "Try this." She clutched him there and led him to rock his hips to and fro while his torso remained in place. As his cock retracted from the soft cavity, the green shaft behind rubbed its way inside him, grinding at a sharper angle the further back he moved.  
     He closed his eyes and moaned through the friction, all his focus brought to his ass once again. Before it bottomed out, he shifted direction and held his breath as his aching penis melted back inside _its_ hole. Steadily, he built a rhythm that had him pulling out slowly and slamming in more quickly. As his breath became mere huffs and sighs, the gentle moans of the half-asleep boy beneath him started to fill the air.  
     The woman tried her best to keep still above him, admiring the work ethic that Emerald had developed on his own. She was sure he was working toward release, and could only imagine the cramping he felt within that bound muscle, but not a drop of white would escape his body while he remained hard, and she hoped he would not learn that before she was through with him.  
     The boy soon found himself rocking his hips in and out at an equal pace, the grinding pain inside his rear stealing less and less of his attention. Amber's eyes opened dreamily, still not fully awake though other parts of his body would deny that. A sticky mess was forming beneath his navel, his under-average erection leaking a small drop of lube. His boycunt remained sloppily tender, never once tightening around the dark rod pounding into it.  
     Only seconds later did that change, when his eyes rolled into his head as he came to consciousness and squirted a hot deposit between his chubby belly and the rough grains of wood. His asshole clenched smoothly and forced a pleasant grind along Emerald's length, finally peeling that extra skin back behind his sore cap. The added sensitivity was enough to send him, too, over the edge. He was ready to cease all thrusting as his ballsac twitched between his legs.  
     But their Mistress wouldn't have it. The moment she sensed his tense moans and slowing pace, she picked it up with her own hips and continue to pommel his ass. He squeezed as the younger boy had, and yelled out as the sensations grew too powerful for him. His sides and abs became chiseled, his hands tightened their grasp, his thighs cramped up; his cock seemed to expand with force as it pulsed and throbbed and bounded inside Amber's spacious rectum. But no relief passed through his urethra, no clumping semen broke that barrier cinched shut by the metal ring, and the penetration riding him throughout his dry climax only seemed to lengthen the duration of utter ecstasy.  
     Multiple breaths and heavy grunts were spent until the overwhelming moment subsided. Only after the boy's muscles relaxed once again did the woman cease her rape. She pulled the toy completely out from him and removed it from its harness, leaving him collapsed upon the other while she recomposed herself with a content sigh. "Mercury, step forward please," she called, not granting him the pleasure of eye contact as she returned to the chests.  
  
     After a quick swap of the rubber phallus for the glass one, she was startled to see the dark figure of the eldest boy standing just beside her. "My word," she said, catching her senses. His skin seemed to absorb all light, for she could only make out the whites of his eyes with little effort; though she could perhaps blame the dimness of the room, his body lacked a certain sheen that the other exotics' had. She paused with an idea, then searched a moment through the chests and potion crate until she found the bottle she was looking for.  
     "My dear," she said as she uncorked the bottled and began to pour the oily substance upon the tall boy's shoulders, "your complexion is dreary." She rubbed it in and all around his arms and chest, back and stomach. "This should give you more depth, accentuate your...features." She applied it more liberally as she massaged it down below into his shaft, the length of which ranked him among beasts for competition. Diamond could not help but groan out in her hunger for such a sizable piece of meat, and the boy watched her with an interested smile upon his face.  
     The oil bath lasted not much longer, just enough to make him more visible in the light of the flickering lamps. From shoulder to knee, the Mistress thought the work a great improvement, enough to later edit the report to recommend this treatment on a professional basis, to make him more attractive before customers. Resealing the bottle, she caught him returning his attention forward. "Diamond's mind is little more than a bowl of pottage at this point. She would suckle a sow's teat if given the chance. Pay her no heed and you shall do her the better favor."  
     She reached again for the familiar red potion. "Besides, I am much more interested in developing your leadership skills, to make up for that bit of manhood you're obviously lacking. I'm sure you enjoyed Peridot's gratification yesterday, but that is no way for you to treat a paying customer. You will learn to perform as any of your equals, and this—" she said, uncorking the bottle before him— "will show you the way."  
     Mercury lifted his chin, recalling the Egyptian's state after having downed the drug and acting as if to turn down an offer. His Mistress raised her eyebrows and gave him an amused smile. "My dear, you have some gall to turn away from me like that, and ultimately much stupidity it appears." He brought his glare down upon her, just as she hoped. "You are not a man, and less of a boy than either of these," she said, motioning her head to the two upon the table. "In fact, you are closer to Sapphire than anyone here." The toddler's ears perked to the name he had recently been given.  
     "But this juice will do wonders you could only dream of. Diamond, you see, is already greatly driven by her lust for men. This potion has multiplied the effect for her, such that presently it is all her mind is capable of mulling over. For you, however, it may dare to offer a feeling you've not felt for half a decade." She raised it again to his sights. "This is your chance to be a man. Are you still so bold to deny even a taste of it?"  
     He steadily reached for the glass container, keeping his eyes ever locked upon hers. In truth, she knew not how the liquor would affect his system, if indeed it would fabricate the required hormones or that it would simply increase his body's production rate of such, which was currently nonexistent. As he wrapped his fingers around it, she slowly loosened her grasp and handed it over, and they stood there a moment—she with an almost smug look of approval upon her face, he with a growing curiosity that he could almost not avoid indulging. He brought the open mouth to his lips hesitantly, then...took a swig.  
  
     The warm beverage soaked into his system almost before he could swallow. Immediately, it heightened his sense of taste, and he found himself guzzling a second longer than he had intended. His Mistress didn't mind; it seemed enough for his body mass, unlike the dosage poor Diamond was force-fed. The scorching serum evaporated within his gullet, and he sucked his teeth as he handed the bottle over.  
     He sniffed the air, catching many of the floating scents within the room, none so overpowering or alluring as Diamond's pheromones. His body responded to the chemicals with an almost instantaneous increase of bloodflow. The pole between his legs grew longer—if it were possible—and raised 45 degrees, held down by its own weight. He quickly turned his attention to the girl, picking up his feet and turning to head towards her of his own accord.  
     A hand landed upon his tightened abdomen, holding him back as it were. He spun his head aside slowly, peering at the woman who'd claimed his life. His pupils had dilated, and his mind seemed conflicted as to why his body had stopped; though he still held to a sense of obedience as he listened to the sweet voice appealing to him.  
     "Do not touch her. You would do more harm than you realize." She was speaking more of his great size within her tiny frame than of merely ruining her training session. "Your target is slightly more composed, mentally, and I'm sure you'll find him much more to your liking." She stepped back and stretched her arm over the table where Emerald was still resting atop the other boy, dazed and only half-listening to the woman's words.  
     As the two approached him, the Mistress laid a hand upon the small of his back and whispered a gentle command to get up. He reconstituted himself and detached his intrusion from Amber, his soft skin tugging out of the cozy burrow. The metal ring still clung to him, though it was easier to ignore when his shaft wasn't attempting to burst it apart. He crawled along the table's edge, knees trembling as he righted himself up.  
     She hooked his waist and pulled him 'round the corner, now leading Mercury closer as she stepped back. It didn't take long for the pairing to meld: the moment that charred hand felt the Arabian's hip, the other was dragging the heavy cock up between those brown legs, sliding beside his jewelpouch, and pressing into his rear before Emerald could open his mouth. The darkest one fed his snake deeper into the tight hole against its squeezes and the boy's contorting spine, while their Mistress aligned herself before Amber's finely presentable rump.  
     Her gentle voice cooed over the boy as a hand peeled aside one plump cheek. "I'll be tender as I can with this one," she said, knowing that the toy she now wielded could potentially break him. "But when you grow used to it, I'll not hold back." As she popped the bulb of a tip beyond his sphincter, he knew what to expect, for clenching brought pain, pressing it closer to his tailbone. He loosened up and she pushed it downward, grinding into the table as it were and jolting his prick awake once again beneath his flesh.  
     The young boy's pleasure was aided by the view beside him: Emerald's stiff member bouncing as a shadow impaled him and humped forcibly behind him. Mercury had no doubt bottomed out, though a decent length still kept them far apart, the remaining hand-breadth scrunching and stretching like a spring while he bounded to and fro. Emerald had grown extremely tense, on the verge of shedding tears though there was no longer any actual friction within his anus.  
     As the glass pipe slid deeper, a voiceless sigh escaping Amber's throat, his Mistress watched his facial cues more than the penetration's progress, though it would certainly be a tantalizing sight to behold. His ring was depressed slightly, only visible above and beneath in line with his crack, his perineum forming a bump just before his pretty ballsac. His ass instinctively raised as she dug down along his insides, offering fresh—though not cool—air to pass around his cocklet, the tip of which was still pinned beneath his soft gut.  
     The fatty tissue of his golden buttocks pressed up against the solid cylinder, no longer clear but deepening in shades of red as the colors of his raw skin passed through it. At just the right angle, with just the right amount of flamelight, the wrinkles of his rectum could possibly be seen spreading open to clutch the perfectly smooth shaft. Their glistening secretions brought out more light, up to a point where the impending shadow of his entryway prevailed.  
     She had slipped right past his prostate, not even rubbing it for a moment as she filled his depths with the unbending tool. Soon after the head disappeared, her hands lightly held his lower back as she sweetly thumbed the beginning of his crack. A shock of approval jumped through his penis, which stiffened as solid as the glass when it pointed into the wood, then softened as the reflex passed. The pleasing spasm returned, this time more prolonged as she massaged her hands up along his back, thumbs rippling up his vertebrae, while simultaneously pushing her hips closer. His sphincter clenched upon it, but she ground further inside, now straightened along the table's level. An almost painful tightening in his taint made him most aware of this corrected angle; his hole now stretched at an oblique to contain the massive penetration.  
     The pressure on his asshole was all too familiar. He had felt it in the very same spot every time he had ever reached orgasm, but this time was different, for neither was he aroused enough to actually cum, nor was the tension dissipating after a split second, nor even at all. It simply dragged on, the girthy object grinding along until he offered up a grunt, its length reaching the end of the line. His Mistress continued her massage all the way up to his shoulder blades, relaxing each of his muscles though his lower half was stretched and strained thus far beyond compare.  
     Amber closed his eyes and focused on her touch as best as he could. Her gloved fingers slipped inside the nooks of flesh where his arms were pulled above his head, trailed around and avoided his pits before lightly brushing the sides of his chest, dug deeper and pulled firmly through his chubby handles; wrists rotated as her hands passed his hips and kneaded the skin of his upper thighs. One hand stopped upon his leg while the other softly circumnavigated his rump and grazed the sensitive package of his tender berries.  
     He gasped, lip quivering, eyes opening as slits. Her fingers played over them side to side, tickling the light hairs, nestling her fingers under them and thumbing them downward into her hold. As his skin there warmed and grew more pliable, her thumb parted the two and made circles upon the thinning skin above them. Her fingers tugged more of his scrotum away from his body, soon turning her wrist and wrapping her thumb and forefinger snugly above his testicles, giving them a gentle squeeze as her fingers came 'round to cup the tightening mass.  
     In a moment, his Mistress could feel his heartbeat pumping through him. She pulled her waist away from him, the toy tugging on his rear only at his surprise, then smoothly sliding outward. He felt his asshole pulsing around the glass cylinder, heated by his body and now passing out as though no longer a foreign object. But it paused midway, as he could have expected, the moment the bump of its head could be felt teasing his pleasure spot. It thrust inward nonstop, his well-adapting hole allowing it free movement in either direction now that his body was producing a slick film around it.  
     His breathing pattern echoed the progress to and fro, exhaling with entry, inhaling with retreat. It moved steadily, his Mistress sure to keep it straight throughout before she built up speed. And she would have increased her pace if not at that moment the boys beside them had begun making a fuss.  
  
     Emerald nearly collapsed as his aggressor pushed him forward onto the table. His knees locked, he stood upon his toes, his rear the highest part of his body, while one arm folded beneath his chest and the other was held behind his back, the chain between them cutting into the side of his ribcage. He cried out in agony, the thrusts of the other passing through and creaking the table legs as his arm felt crushed by Mercury's force.  
     The darker creature folded over the submissive boy, pinning him down with half of his strength while a hand was squeezed between the joining of their bodies. It mashed against the other's flat backside, clutching the excess length of his member as though an extension of the boy's anus. Emerald's insides had softened only barely, tugging upon the insertion like taffy as it now started unsheathing from his tightness and tunneling back within.  
     The angle was hardly comfortable for either of them, especially with the Ethiopian's torso rotated as such, but it quickly proved to give just the right stimulus that each needed to climax. Emerald, of course, could not spill a drop more than precum, but to his Mistress's delight his body was learning its place in terms of use: the boy, it seemed, was a budding masochist.  
     Mercury took only slightly longer to tense with orgasm, aided perhaps by the clenching muscles of the hole he excavated. The drug intensified the feeling, made it drag on longer than it should have, and yet allowed him to continue pounding through it with not so much as a skipped beat. Tears welled in Emerald's eyes and dripped down to the table as he found himself sustaining cramp after cramp throughout his chute, down his thighs, into his calves.  
     The dense tip of that rod jabbed at his inner walls as the older boy carried on as though he aimed to bury the entire length within. Suddenly, Emerald groaned out as if he'd taken a fist to the stomach. At this, the woman ceased her focus upon pleasuring Amber and reached out to still Mercury's actions. "Dear boy, learn to control yourself," she called out to his far-off mind. He slowed to a halt and looked up at her, then lifted himself and looked at the boy trembling beneath him. His cock had been smeared with blood, and after he'd touched it and raised his fingers before him, their Mistress sighed at having to cut the session short.  
     She unhitched the glass penetration from its harness and slowly pulled it out from its slick cavity. Amber's gut twitched as it slipped outward, sighing through an involuntary leakage of spunk from his hidden prick. His asshole stretched as elastic back to a comfortable size, though it still gaped slightly, his ring puffy and pink as strings of slime pulled and broke from the shaft of the transparent phallus, now being balanced upright beside him as the woman headed 'round to separate the others.  
     She sucked her teeth as she parted Emerald's cheeks to view the damage. His hole had become almost a shade of purple, and once in a while a touch of red gunk clung to Mercury's fleeing cock as she led him to ease it out. Emerald breathed through clenched teeth as its full length finally slunk from within his rawness. He tightened quickly, as if prepared to bar another attack, and was slowly able to touch his soles again to the cool floor. His knees bent and spine relaxed. He was not nearly in the same disposition as the other boy resting there. He felt himself a slave indeed, and was unsure how much more of this treatment his body would take.


	7. Fool's Gold

     While the headmistress was tending to her duties as trainer, Jahi had found a moment of solace in his busyness of preparing to set out. His men would stay behind during this journey; he could only guess that his partner's intentions were to increase relations between he and her guards. He did not mind the separation, for his calling was no longer a militant one. He presumed, however, that they would keep up with their personal training, in between lustful indulgences of course. Perhaps his greater worry was for Aquamarine, whom he had indeed come to cherish. He reclined in a seat with the girl upon his lap, running his fingers through her delicate hair as she sat with her back to him, and they talked.  
     "You are a fine girl indeed, more highly prized than any I have seen in my travels. I merely worry for your safety. My men have grown lax, and I fear their duties will be forgotten in a place such as this. Your Mistress still has many enemies, and whether they discover her or not, they are dangerous men and capable of dealing much harm if they so intend to."  
     "You fear much, Milord," she interrupted, turning her head aside slightly as he continued to pet the shimmering brown strands cascading down her back. "And I believe you owe Milady more trust. She is highly esteemed by her guards, and they would much sooner die for her than betray her request. We will be well-protected and cared for while they stand watch. No threats will near us, no more than she found you threatening at your first arrival."  
     She was well-spoke for a girl of her age, properly educated in every form, it seemed. Jahi admired her forwardness, as though he were speaking with a younger and yet less crude version of his partner. And her points were convincing; he did not pass it off as naiveté but found himself genuinely considering her position. He indeed had much to learn about these guards of hers, how they operated and what their motive was, if they had any weakpoints and if they could be bought. Not that he would seek to turn them, but simply that he needed to know such things.  
  
     One of his own men entered the room and lowered himself into a seat, sighing out as though relieving a great stress. His presence was only slightly unappreciated, but his groans of displeasure forced Jahi's sole attention upon him. "What ails you, brother?" he asked with annoyed undertone, his hands moving to rest upon the arms of his seat.  
     He sighed greatly again, his face distorting a bit as though he were attempting to work out a puzzle. "This girl you've bought," he started, his brow cringing more deeply. "The temptress. She vexes us so." Jahi could only guess he was referring to the dark-skinned slave Mikhail had passed on to them. "Why do we keep her? What is her purpose? She cannot speak, nor does she listen. Her body is flawless, yet we cannot touch her. Her eyes are filled with such hate that she would likely wring our necks if she were not bound." His hands formed fists as he spoke the thought. "She is possessed. She will not be broken."  
     "In time, my friend," Jahi answered, with more hope than he actually believed. "One day, she will be broken, and then trained, perhaps by the likes of you. But come, forget these ill thoughts for now. I am to leave soon, and I would rather you be in good spirits when I've gone." His friend sighed, trying to silence his anger and confusion, though his mind seemed to race with it. Jahi leaned forward and whispered a message to the girl upon his lap, who soon raised up and left the room, almost skipping up the hall.  
     "Perhaps some entertainment will help you forget. Stay here, my friend," he motioned as he headed for the cave's entrance. "I will fetch the others." With that he left his perplexed comrade, seated with his hand covering his mouth as he stared upon the floor, still deep in thought.  
  
     Not a moment later, two Gems strolled down the hall, Aquamarine followed closely by another dressed in red, Ruby. Their bare feet were light and swift, their footsteps out of sync, though the movements of their shoulders, arms, hips were similarly sensual. The man sat dazed for a moment while they encircled him, a gentle hand upon his shoulder waking him from his trance. Aqua brushed her hand across his tense neck, her other holding to his upper arm, and she bent to speak into his ear. "Join us, sir," her sweet voice broke through his psyche. The one dressed in red stood at his other side and clutched his hand. With a firm tug, he was fully awakened to their requests. Aqua slinked her form before him, fingertips traipsing down the fabric of his arm until she, too, held his hand and playfully pulled at it. He steadied himself and raised up from the seat, allowing them to tow him along as though he were their prisoner.  
     He admired their fluid movements. Aqua was fully dressed in her dancer outfit, with tulle ribbons and bangles and veil adorning her. The other in crimson garb seemed under-dressed by comparison, with armlets and anklets clasped upon fair skin, yet neither ribbon nor veil as added that layer of mystery to the girl in blue. This one in red was captivating as exotic and new, with reddish brown hair tied back near the neck, and green irises beyond dazed eyelids and long lashes. A round face with a button nose made this Gem seem even younger than Aqua, though luscious lips and a small chin increased the creature's allure.  
     The two led him in silence, down into the sunken pit and released him in front of the rounded benchseats. Aqua laid a hand upon his chest and pressed it into him, as a forceful nudge into the cushions below. The two Companions now stood before the man, each donning a sly grin as they paused for him to revel in his circumstance.  
     "My dears, this is most irregular," he started, before the Persian raised a lone finger to her lips and shook her head ever so slightly. He decided to play along, curious of their intentions. No sooner had he nodded in concord than she lifted a foot upon the seat, her hand resting at her knee. She raised her other arm high above her head, craning her wrist downward. The red-haired one lowered almost to the floor, wrapping hands around one of the man's legs and gently sliding down to his ankle as she knelt and disappeared from view.  
     The faint call of a drum could be heard building through the still air, like a heartbeat for the dance to be had. Aqua's ankle flexed as she pressed her weight into it then lifted herself steadily and swiftly upon it, reaching her other leg across the man's body and down at the other side, granting him that familiar scent of cacao that wafted from her thin leggings. One hand remained above, her head turned aside, while the other played its middle finger along her inner thigh, teasing the blue fabric into the crease of her panties as she raised her hand up to her waistline, then dragged her finger to her navel and pressed it lightly within. She jerked her pelvis forward at this, with a heavy drumbeat accentuating the motion.  
     The man smiled and chuckled in delight, for her crotch was close to his half-slouched posture. He moved his hands to clutch her calves, yet this upset her balance so that she had to improvise her next position. She leaned back as her knees came forward to rest just beside his shoulders, the arc of linen connecting her thighs now tickling the bristly hairs of his chin as her intoxicating perfume filled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, lulled by the aromatic effects, and raised his chin as he reopened his eyes to the disappearing upper half of the girl. Only her delicate hand could be seen still touching her navel, the rest of her torso cantilevered behind.  
  
     It was at this moment that Jahi returned with the five others. They shuffled into the room, replacing their chatter with hushing sounds and sudden hums of pleasure as they approached their preoccupied comrade. As they filed into the pit and quietly took seats around, Aqua continued her dance, bumping her hips occasionally to the low beat of the drum. The man's hands moved up her legs 'til they came to rest upon the oiled skin of her bare back. He took control, grasping her frame firmly and encouraging her to pull herself upright and then fold over him. To his pleasant surprise her veil had been removed, and she now came towards him with a powerful hunger in her gaze. As her spine curled forward and her hair fell like a curtain about her shoulders, she landed her palms upon his temples and pressed his head fro while he spread his hands across her back, and they entered an alluring embrace of lips that brought envy even to Jahi's heart.  
     She broke the kiss before it could get too intimate, the man's pulse now racing as she continued to play with him. Her fingers messed through his unkempt hair. She raised her chin and began to hump him in that position. He hummed as the sight of her scrunching abdomen faded to the backs of his eyelids. His hands felt her body more strongly, sliding downward and tugging her waistline along to bare the raw leather undergarment her Master had bound to her. It was dark as her hair, snugly covering her backside and crotch alike. For the moment the barrier mattered not, for the girl's sensuous movements were fulfilling their purpose in arousing the man, as well as the others watching.  
     They made no motion to interfere, however, as the true nature of their entertainment was not yet revealed. Jahi had perhaps ruined the surprise for them, or from his perspective "saved them" from it when he informed these chosen five of Ruby's true identity. Indeed, they had not guessed it on their own, the one of all their focus especially. As much as each of them admired his current position in the arms of a delight such as Aqua, they would not like to be the one truly discovering the boy when all the while assuming just the opposite.  
     As the elastic waistline rolled to mid-thigh and the man hooked his chin over it, the Italian marked "her" presence again, sliding small hands up trouser-clad legs and grasping onto a knee with each as she arose from the ground. Aqua pulled herself up and back as she straightened her legs to stand, the man's fingers working to tug the material of her pants further down 'til they stretched over him at her shins. He unclasped the bangles at her feet, one by one, and finally moved the blue cloth away, glancing for a moment at the white face between his knees, which tilted downward to glare at him devilishly before a foot raised to his chin and gently lifted his gaze to the long, bronze legs of the succubus above.  
     He grinned and grasped her calf and ankle in his wide hands, holding her lightly—careful this time not to ruin her balance—as he gave her skin gentle kisses. She peered down her body and played fingers along her stomach. As she kept his attention, Ruby made an advance, climbing up to the man's lap and staying low as her chin came to rest above his crotch. Hands explored the folds of clothing 'til they managed to loose the growing shaft that embodied his lust.  
     A soft cheek nuzzled the head of his cock, lightly landing kisses at the base now and again. True to her silent request, the man kept his attention upon Aqua, now suckling her toes as she moaned tenderly in approval. She steadied her weight into the hand that gripped her heel, her leg muscles flexing all the way up her thigh as the men behind gazed upon her fine shade of skin. Some of them began to relax and remove layers of clothes, though it was not yet their time to join so boldly in the activities. The man would only faintly wonder why they left him alone, but more graciously he would appreciate their holding back, for such attention from not one but two girls was a great salve for his troubled mind.  
     His girthy length continued to swell beside Ruby, just past her ear as it began to stiffen. He gently lowered Aqua's foot as he moved a hand to pet the other girl's head and spoke to her with his gruff voice. "Do not be shy, my dear," he incited, finding her chin and raising it up to his tip. He only now realized how small her face seemed in comparison to his full size. He was not monstrous, but her jaw was simply too tiny for him to imagine entering for any decent length. But again, his thoughts and doubts languished as seductive eyes looked up at him and moist lips wrapped 'round his violet head and a warm tongue played over his slit.  
     Aqua faded into the background, finding the music yet again and swiveling her hips or jerking her stance idly in rhythm with it. She did not beg attention, though neither did she lose interest. Her Master had planned this moment for Ruby. Her own presence was supplemental, but it was not without need. She was performing for the art of it, the illusion that still needed to be guarded. She would tease and tempt, and play—as was her nature—but she would not win the man over. She should not. If she stole his full attention, he would then be absent-minded towards her equal. That would not do. For this plan to be carried out to completion, Ruby would need to vex him, to lead him, to keep him fooled and take him. He must not know until it is far too late.  
     The man held the back of her head, every so often gently pressing it downward into him, managing just the tip full entry into her tight mouth. Any further was too rigid to separate her teeth, though her tongue would squeeze out to lick the sides as she turned her neck to do so. She'd leave her drool upon it, drips shimmering in the flamelight falling down to his nest of pubes where no small fingers held him. Instead, Ruby's hands provided useful leverage as they rested upon his thighs while she knelt between his feet.  
     Above, Aqua's wandering fingers slipped between her legs and pressed to her leathern panties as she rocked her hips forward in a sudden grinding motion. All but Jahi now bared their pricks in anticipation of pleasures to come. Certainly, they could not make use of the Persian as they had before, but penetration was not the only act upon their minds—and if it were, their captain's standards were not their own, and Ruby would serve as equal a replacement.  
     As the hidden drummer began to work in swift, light raps and Aquamarine's motions grew more lewd in nature, the man sighed deeply and raised his chin in sheer delight of the show, his groping hand slipping down upon the girl's upper arm. A few more rougher sucks on the fleshy tip of his tool made him groan out before Ruby's spiraling tongue showed that she was finishing her work as she lifted her mouth from him. He was by now used to their cooperative teasing, though he could have guessed he would not be allowed to release the surging pressure they were trying so hard to create within a mouth that could barely take a fraction of his size, and indeed he had hoped for a more intimate means to do so. He now imagined how aroused _she_ might be for him, and how much easier it might be to take her than if things had not gone along so tantalizingly slow.  
     Ruby slinked away between the man's thighs as Aqua crouched down closer to him, her legs only inadvertently brushing against his robes as she hovered her weight above his stomach. She dare not even touch his throbbing penis, for that was not her territory; her duty was to captivate his eyes, to steal his attention away from Ruby while "she" moved about between his knees. The man caught a glimpse of the redhead turning around before Aqua's succulent lips landed against his and melted his curiosity into the dark recesses of his mind.  
     When the bond broke, he opened his dreamy eyes to the tender glare of golden irises and a smile upon her cheeks, her fingers pulling gently out from his hair in a moment that seemed to stretch time. Just as his lungs cued a sudden inhale, she stood up again, drawing his attention along 'til the heated sensation finally brought his gaze beneath her. He hesitated to grip the shapely waist of the light-skinned Gem crouched before him, facing out to the witnesses all around, with hands peeling ripe cheeks apart as a welcoming pucker met his glistening prick with a forceful kiss.  
     "Oh, my," the man spoke with raised brow, landing a hand upon the small of her back and petting her bare skin as he directed approval to his captain beyond. "A filthy dish you have here, to offer her anus before womb." Jahi smiled, along with the others, but for different humor than his friend yet realized. His other hand helped steady his shaft as he lowered his voice, as if only for Ruby to hear. "I shall flood whichever hole you present to me. That is your payment for such as you've done for me." And he pressed against her opening with power growing in his eyes.  
     Jahi, though, caught his lust, and hoped better to serve all in curbing it. "Relax, my friend," he called out with a halting motion. His comrade looked up, the Gems fading into the background for the moment of this interruption. "Let Ruby prove 'herself' to you. Come, remove your hold and let the show continue." He did not want wandering hands to ruin the fun, but a small part of him was also interested to see how this young lad would fare leading his own anal penetration. He was, after all, co-owner of an establishment which prized such abilities.  
     Aqua tossed her hair to one side and bent over the man as he contemplated his choices. Her rear jutted out away from him as a hand came down to cup the side of his face, and she kissed his cheek, nuzzled his ear, caressed his neck. He pulled his hands back and clutched Aqua's calves instead, tilting his head to coax another lip-locking kiss from her before he watched her ascend once again. When he peered down again, the bulb of his meat was gone, consumed already by the relaxed yet firm grasp of the Italian's warm confines. With smooth advances and gentle curling of hips, Ruby's asshole spread to take the solid staff and soon sat upon his lap encompassing its length within searing hot flesh.  
     Small hands held the man's hips as Ruby wriggled her ass 'round in circles upon him, teeth holding her bottom lip as she tried to peer at him over her shoulder. Her knees now up to her chest, her legs bowed outward slightly, allowing him to see that her red pants still clung just below her hips, hiding "her" surprise from sight before and beneath. Slowly, their scent wafted up through the air: the delicate fragrance of roses tingling the senses. But before he could focus too long on the new aroma, Ruby lifted her feet over his legs, one at a time, and moved her hands to his knees, folding forward as that stuffed ass pulled up slightly then more smoothly, halfway up the pole.  
     The man greatly admired the sight given him, the slick shimmer on his skin fading quickly as it touched the air. Just before the angle of Ruby's hips rocked too far, her body thrust in to him again, squeezing soft white cheeks around the man's rigid penetration. Eyes rolled as lids closed, each of them losing themselves in the tightness that formed a suction seal between them.  
     The men along the benchseats began to show signs of their struggles to contain their wills; one even pleaded with their leader to allow them at least use of the true girl, whose dance-moves now blurred the lines of self-gratification. "Such beauty is going to waste," he reasoned with hushed tone. "He cannot even gaze upon her for fear he would be spent too soon." Others chuckled at this, but Jahi remained silent, only holding up a hand to deny the appeal. His friend reclined again with a sigh of disappointment, reluctantly stroking himself as anticipation grew once more.  
     Ruby bounced more freely upon the man's cock, its length sliding smoothly to and fro as the quick friction along her raw insides caused a spot of wetness to appear at either side of her pants as a small erection tossed up and down inside them. Several men before "her" could just barely make out the shape of its presence by the lighting from behind, or perhaps they simply imagined it by the hunger growing in their eyes.  
  
     Ruby's mind seemed distant as sweat began to collect along his brow and upon his back and dripping down his tailbone. Then his sigh of relief brought him back for a split second as his master breathed in strongly and clutched Aqua's legs tightly through his hefty release of seed. The burning cream spurted into the deepest reaches of the boy's body, and through the continued motions of his hips it spilled 'round the insertion and smeared out from his hole as he pumped the wellspring of semen from its seemingly endless supply. In the slowed spanse of time, it came forth in several short bursts, each contributing to the pile beyond his pulsing tip, and settled there as the boy relaxed and sat upright in the man's lap, keeping the spent cock buried deep within him.  
     The boy's breaths were quick, though he remained silent, turning his head aside as his ribcage expanded and contracted. Stray hairs clung to his soaking neck, and his garments stuck to his skin in places. The silence of the drum came to the man's senses as he realized that Aqua had ceased her movements, frozen in a stance with chin raised high and one arm even higher, the other holding onto her forearm. Jahi's clapping brought the others to follow suit, still awaiting the go-ahead for them to join the festivities.  
     The man felt up the Persian's leg more tenderly, calling up to her over the mild applause, "Please, my dear, come sit." Aqua artfully folded her form inward as she seemed to shift personalities. She carried a foot over to one side and sat with one leg tucked beneath the other, bowing courteously along with the other Gem. The man smiled and finally returned his hands to the Italian's soft waist, glancing over to Jahi, who nodded in approval, a strange grin forming across his lips.  
     He pulled himself forward, hand clutching the boy's crook between thigh and hip, fingers kept along the gold band of elastic linen as he craned his neck to nibble a fleshy earlobe. "Your skills are sublime," he whispered as his friends watched a deep blush cover the boy's cheeks. "What is your name?" he requested, eyes closing and hands wrapping 'round his small frame and feeling up his chest.  
     "Ruby," the boy answered breathlessly.  
     Silently, the others around brought themselves closer, knowing the surprise would come quickly, and also to better hear the boy's voice. "Tell me, Ruby," the man asked—his friends' eyes widening as they watched his fingers spread over the boy's stomach and move past the brim of the scarlet pants painfully slowly— "the sensations that you feel."  
     "It is," he started, eyes softly gazing down at the man whose neck hugged his shoulder, "quite filling." A coy smile raised his cheeks, and a similar response came from the man. His fingers stopped their downward travel at just the right moment, then slid back up, pressing gently upon his "filled" belly. The boy's lip quivered as a small cramp met his insides. Apparently, the man saw fit to repay the teasing he'd endured, but Ruby was not the only one groaning in anticipation; the others, Jahi included, found themselves catching their breath multiple times.  
     "There is much more where that came from," the man said through a chuckle. "I'm sure each of my friends would like to experience your wonderful skills, but first, my flowery one—" he said, ever breathing the scent of roses— "I shall be proud to deflower you myself." Ruby's blush continued as the man slowly unwrapped himself, clutching tightly the boy's waist. "She is a virgin, is she not?" he asked more loudly to those around and particularly to Jahi. "Why else would she present her rear to me first? But now we know she can satisfy many more of us at once." He pressed a hand against Ruby's back 'til he folded forward, arms supporting himself outward upon the marble table as the man led his hindquarters up away from his messy prick. "Come, my brothers, help me make proper use of this slut."  
     As his swollen shaft squeezed from the boy's pink anus, slimy and moist with frothy substance, and he lifted the boy's ass and lowered the gold waistband a bit further—the boy's penis flinging free beneath his stomach—the man's eye caught sight of a round sack where instead he had expected to see a pair of pursed lips. His pleasant countenance drained quickly from his face as the realization beset him, transferring, as it were, his smile to all around him.  
     Confusion set in; denial; and then rage. He pushed the boy forcibly from his lap, Ruby clambering to stand and Aqua scooting away as the man yelled curses and came to his feet as well. He towered over the boy, preparing to "smack sense into him" for fooling him, but Jahi stood beside and caught his wrist at its peak. "Do not lay a hand on the boy," he said strongly as his stern-faced comrade turned to look at him. "He meant no foul, and neither did we. 'Tis all in good fun, my friend," he grinned, lowering the man's hand to grasp it in a handshake.  
     The man now returned to a state of puzzlement, glancing absent-mindedly 'round the pit at cheery faces that had been in on the joke. "Fun," his lost mind repeated, reaching suddenly for the seat behind him as he almost fainted onto it, the others breaking into open laughter. Ruby and Aqua seemed a bit concerned, looking to their Master to gauge the situation. A toothy smirk crossed Jahi's lips as he laid a hand upon the man's shoulder, then chuckled as he coaxed an uneasy smile from his dazed friend.  
  
     "Ahem." Another approached the Gems and cleared his throat to gain their captain's attention.  
     Jahi simply nodded, speaking instead to the light-headed one, "Rest, my friend. You have been through quite a lot, but the show has done little to quench anyone else's lusts."  
     Ruby was startled to feel hands suddenly upon his shoulders and an "arm" prodding his back, but he was soon at ease once again as the atmosphere grew more pleasant and he became the center of everyone's focus. One helped him out of his leggings, another led him onto the marble platform. One stood at the rounded edge with fully aroused cock and called to the boy with only a wave. Ruby brought himself to all fours, knowing the position he was putting himself in and playfully wagging the bottom of his spine as he crawled over to meet the man. His small hands clutched the table's edge as he leaned forward to lick the staff.  
     The man who had claimed his shoulders earlier now shed his upper robe, his gut hanging down as he loosened his trousers and knelt close behind the boy. He wrapped a wide hand over one cheek as he moved it aside and took his other to press his growing thickness onto the boy's soft hole and firmly through the barrier. Ruby gasped beside the first man's cock, the pressure returning to his insides as he opened once again for the somewhat larger shaft. It hardened almost immediately, and thrust itself as far inward as it could, surpassing the sticky mess that still sat deep inside him.  
     Aqua was not forgotten in this moment, for though she was not "fresh meat"—as some put it—her many fine features spoke volumes more in her favor. Two men helped to undress her, removing her bracelets and the ribbons attached to them as well as the blue top which until now had covered the small mounds of her chest. They held just enough mass to declare her femininity, but perhaps not as much as some would like. Still, the men prompted her to lay back on the table, even to slide herself underneath Ruby such that their bodies formed a cross. One leaned in to beg her mouth use by his aching member. At the other end, another rested one knee upon the table, raised her legs and separated her shins, and prepared himself to use the cushion of her thighs to jerk himself off—a crude means to an end, but there were many stranger fetishes these men could indulge in and perhaps would eventually.  
     Wasting no time, the man at Ruby's rear drove his weight in and out of the tender hole, pushing him forward with each inward thrust. After a short while, the boy managed to align the other man's cock within his mouth, though the goings-on behind him made focus difficult; at times, he merely kept his jaw dropped to allow uninhibited entry. It was a pleasant means of remaining hard, but as the man grew impatient to fulfill his gut desire he soon held to the boy's temples and forced his shaft more roughly against him. His moans were repeatedly muffled as the soft tip squeezed into his gullet, in and out, plugging and unplugging his throat.  
     With a heavy plunge deep into him, his anal assailant let out a stale load of spunk that had been awaiting release since his last time within Aqua many weeks ago. It settled into the boy's gut and continued to leak from the man's shaft as he pulled back, leaving a stringy trail within 'til he slipped loose from the boy with a satisfied chortle. Not long after, Ruby's upper body tensed as his throat closed around the other's orgasm, the slimy mess finding escape up into his nasal cavity and sneezing out from his nostrils in a quick reflex.  
     He was barely given a moment's rest as another nameless man stepped up to the task of stuffing his asshole. As he coughed and tried to clear his nose of the foreign mucus, his soft anus smoothly engulfed a smaller prick. He clenched himself around it, feeling the familiar grind of pressure that kept his boyish shaft stiff throughout. This man pulled Ruby's hips to and fro, sending his cock beneath him swaying over Aqua's chest.  
     The younger girl—though she was taller—was receiving much sweeter treatment from the man she was sucking off. She seemed to have a knack for giving oral upside-down, though she was often tilting her head to take in more of him without her gag reflex kicking in. She was calm about it, as he allowed her to work at her own pace, but occasionally she would swap in her hand in place of her mouth. She'd peer down her body beyond those low jiggling hills, past that bouncing joystick Ruby sported, to her shimmering bronze thighs where a round eye was peeking in and out as that man humped her. It aroused her so much that she presently loathed her Master's decision for her binding. Her desire for direct stimulation was hardly quenched as she returned her hungry mouth to its calling.  
     Unknown by any save Aqua, the boy's prick squirted a small dab of heated juice upon the girl's breast, the clear liquid soon fading into the natural shine of her skin. He uttered heavy breaths and his head hung low as he continued to get pounded, a slick mess spilling past the man's shaft and dripping down his legs.  
     Before the boy could have the pleasure of sighing out an orgasmic release, a man raised his chin and gripped his jaw, squeezing finger and thumb into his cheeks as he shoved a flaccid, skin-wrapped spigot past his lips and steadily beyond his teeth. A moment later, it was draining a foul-smelling fluid into the boy's mouth, and his head bobbed frequently as he found himself struggling to swallow the man's piss. Ruby closed his eyes throughout the degrading act, the man behind him grunting and groaning as the boy's tightening ring began to grip and tug his length. He spanked a cheek loudly and continued to pull his body onto him.  
     The boy spurted up the last mouthful as the man released him. "That should teach you," he heard him mutter, immediately recognizing the voice of he who had been tricked, yet unable to meet his gaze as the final golden drops trickled down his chin and splattered upon the floor. He did not feel he'd learned any lesson, for he'd only done his Master's wish; how anyone abused him because of it was neither his fault nor his woe. But the offense had interrupted his pleasure, and his member though dripping with pre was relaxed and begged to receive its due process to regain arousal. Unfortunately for that, the third man emptied himself inside him quite abruptly, spreading his cheeks apart as his spent penis slinked out from him.  
     The man at Aqua's legs inhaled through his teeth as he finally reached his climax, the girl watching as several white ropes flung over her abdomen only up to her ribcage, much of the goo dripping over the leather of her chastity belt. Suddenly, the cock in her hand retracted and she looked up in time to see the man moving to fill the spot behind Ruby. To her dismay, it seemed everyone was hoping to get a piece of the boy. She wondered if Jahi, too, would partake in the cycle, but he was at present nowhere to be seen.  
     Just then, the man she had danced for hovered over her, offering his hand and helping her out from her position. "A filthy slut, this child," he spoke to all of the boy, "taking collections from us and spilling naught but a drop as yet. What do you make of him, Aqua, my dear?" She swung her legs 'round and sat up at the table's edge, looking back at Ruby as the other man knelt behind stroking himself, waiting upon this man's allowance for him to proceed. "What should we do with such a boy?" he asked again.  
     "Fuck him," she answered nonchalantly. Oh, to be in his place at the center of attention again, or at least to have a purpose beyond yielding her opinion on questions Ruby was equally capable of answering. "'Til he cums like a girl," she added pleasantly.  
     The man nodded a bit. "For he thinks he's a girl already, hmm? 'Twould be better to prove the point." He craned his view beneath the boy, then directed another question at Aqua. "And tell me, how does a girl cum? Not from an appendage like that, I should think, hmm?"  
     The Persian shook her head and responded without delay, "From the hole that you fuck."  
     He felt his beard as he nodded in agreement, then smiled widely as he spoke down to the Italian. "So, Ruby, when you cum it will be decided, if indeed you are a girl or a boy. If the former, you'll have my sincerest apologies for my actions. But if you turn out to be a boy—well, there may be worse punishments than to drink a man's pee." He chuckled somewhat evilly, motioning his wrist in a spiral fashion as his friend soon mounted the boy's rump.  
     Aqua felt no more pity than Ruby felt fear. Neither looked ahead to promises or threats; they simply acted as they were trained to. Expressions of worry or distress, or of annoyance or discomfort, or even of love or pleasure were often feigned for the entertainment of one's masters. The more convincing Gems proved in handling their emotions in this way, the more business in general they would bring to the Harem.  
     It was not, however, up to Ruby to cum at will, nor to prevent himself from doing so. His bounding prick was soon slapping up against his stomach as the man buried his length deeply inside him. He knelt upon one knee, the other leg supporting his weight over at the boy's side as he thrust into him at an angle. If Ruby had hoped for the better result, he need only outlast each and every penetration he was due to receive; though bearing with a solid shaft grinding along his inner walls was complicating even that alternative.  
     He nearly felt a twinge in his boyhood at the moment a sizable load dumped into his rectum, making the boy gasp out when the warming sensation returned to his asshole. With each ejaculation came added pressure in his gut, as muscle contractions seemed to slide the assorted viscous deposits into one chamber as if for later use. Subsequent pull-outs grew easier as his hole loosened up, and it wasn't long before his first master returned to the scene to deliver a second payload to his oft-used pussy. "Let's see what you're made of, boy," the man called out as he held his stiff rod in line and pressed forward without so much as a hand touching Ruby. He slid effortlessly between his cheeks and into that slick ring with a satisfying _squelch_.  
     Halfway in, he leaned over the boy and brought his knees forward more, pressing a hand upon Ruby's shoulder as he led the boy's upper body downward, and started to pound his way deeper and more fully in and out of him. His swollen head was jabbing directly into that pleasure spot, and Ruby found himself rock-hard in a matter of seconds. If he'd received even the faintest touch, he felt he would climax in an instant; yet without it, it was all a matter of repetitive action.  
     The weight of the man's balls dropping down with each inward dive made the boy start to moan in delight, the heat centered upon his rear exhilarating his senses. The man leaned closer and corrected his arm support before he quickened his pace, still retracting as far as he could before ramming his entire length down into the boy. The slapping sound of the man's crotch upon Ruby's sharply presented ass filled the air 'til a heavy grunt and groan overwhelmed it.  
     The boy's sphincter clenched tight around the quick intrusion as his depths churned and gurgled. The sudden grasp slowed the man to a near halt as he shot an impromptu string of semen down into the boy's stretchy insides, after which he pulled out as swift as he could to drain the remainder of his spunk upon Ruby's previously unblemished backside.  
     The Italian sighed through a quivering jaw as his asshole began to bubble and spurt involuntarily, his legs trembling as the saved up clumps and juices passed out of him in a steady flood brought on by the contraction. The cream-colored mess dripped and smeared over his perineum, 'round his ballsac, down his thighs. His softening cocklet brandished its own variety of leakage, hanging in a long string and swaying to and fro, and all witnessing the lewd event were amazed at the finale.  
     "Do forgive me, my dear," the man concluded as he sat before Ruby's weakened state, petting "her" hair sweetly. "You've my utmost apologies. I could not have guessed that you were cursed with such a form. But trust that you are henceforth given due respect by us. We are men of our word."


	8. Cherry Bomb

     In the wake of Ruby's debut, Jahi's men suddenly had much to talk about. Their curiosity only swelled while they played back the passed moments as a pleasant daydream, and deliberated among their group the nature of the boy. They were half-dressed, sitting upon the benches, the polished table; one stood above them beyond the pit. Ruby had all but collapsed where they had left him, resting with his rump still exposed and the stench of sex pooling beneath it, and Aqua sat patiently beside him giving partial attention to the men's words.  
     "A demon, perhaps," one offered to reason, raising a hand to silence his friends who groaned out in disagreement. "Hear me, brothers! A creature more misunderstood than any. He feeds on passion; he lives for it!"  
     "An incubus?" another clarified, receiving an _Aye_ of approval before shaking his own head against it. "Misunderstood indeed. A succubus more like it." He and several others chuckled at this.  
     "A succubus then," the first corrected himself, "confined within a male's body."  
     A third man tried to speak more sensibly. "That is ridiculous. What a confusing business you make devilry out to be." Several laughed heartily, and even the one they mocked smiled a little. "You may as well call it a jinni bound to a wish gone awry. Nay! This is no demon, or it would operate in tricks and traps to get its way. I was not ensnared, gentlemen, were you?"  
     "Oh, but Kaseem was!" one said as now a riot of laughter broke out.  
     A nervous smile and a huff was answered by the man standing above them. "Deceived by a cunning mind, yet allured by a heavenly body," Kaseem finally spoke, as if defending the creature. "She is a fox. The form is but a flaw, but she is female nonetheless." He peered over at Ruby's reposing frame. "Her" body seemed to have slunk lower over the marble, a sloppy mess coating a puffy red hole as icing on a pastry and shining in the light of the lamp high above the table. Bubbles of the runny substance occasionally spurted out from "her" sexhole, a sure sign that a thicker collection lay in wait deeper within, and was on its way sliding closer to its release. The men, of course, Kaseem especially, were too dense to realize that this "girl's" anal orgasm was simply the regurgitation of their own climactic deposits.  
     The others continued their idle chatter, but Kaseem called to Aqua, turning her wandering eyes from the weakened boy up to the man now walking around to re-enter the pit at her end. "Milord?" she responded.  
     He sat upon the bench across from her, squinting his gaze as if to read her thoughts. "Tell me, my dear, do you admire Ruby?"  
     "Admire, sir?"  
     "You've watched her more than any other in this room. It is fine to admit it: either you find interest in what she has to offer, or you are perhaps jealous." He turned his head aside with a smile, as if trying to play to her emotions.  
     It worked, for Aqua's heart fluttered at the claim. She straightened her posture, her bare-chested form displaying a little more proudly with her hands pulling together upon her lap. "Jealous?" she repeated, stifling a squeak that would have broken her womanly charm. She was offended, but the moment Kaseem returned his sights to her, she swallowed her anger and regained her proper disposition, though her heartbeat still raced within her. "Forgive me, lord, it is my Master's wish that my body belong to him. And it is my pleasure to serve him as long as he'll have me."  
     "True enough," he nodded. "But you've not answered my question. It is natural to want what you cannot have. Does it pain you for Ruby to receive that which you work for?"  
     "We only do our duty, sir. We cannot do more than we are asked."  
     The man pondered this statement a while, stroking his beard throughout. Certainly he enjoyed her company, her sexual prowess, and respected Jahi's exclusive claim to her. Of course, he and the others had tasted of her prior to the decision, and in so doing had learnt of her inner desires. He much wanted her to receive due pleasure, and so over the silence that followed he settled his mind on a carefully weighed scenario. "Aquamarine," he stated formally, just above a whisper, pulling himself closer to grasp her delicate hands in his, "you are a rare blossom in a dry wilderness."  
     His sudden etiquette caught her off guard, and she quickly found herself wide-eyed and blushing in his beholding. Before she could stutter a word, he continued.  
     "We have been made rough in our travels, but your youth and energy have appealed to our better nature. I feel I have mistreated you as only my lust would dictate." Aqua focused entirely on his words, and his eyes, which seemed to glint with his honesty. Her heart began to echo in her ears, for a different, more pleasant feeling than just a moment ago. Beside them, they gradually drew the attention of his five comrades, silencing themselves and even listening intently to Kaseem's speech. "Please forgive me of that as I ask you for one last favor."  
     "Sir?" she said almost breathlessly, bowing her head just a bit.  
     "On behalf of my brothers—" he did not bother to convene with them, for he felt they would be equally pleased with the outcome— "I ask that you only do among us as would ever suit your desires." He paused, if only to let the request settle in. "If you want to do something, do not leave it to us to guess what that may be. Act as you will."  
     Her eyes glazed over and her breathing grew shallow. She recalled the conversations she'd had with Jahi, her Master, and wondered if he had set this up. It seemed, to her, something that he would do, for her. Surely, she was struggling to fight the onset of tears, her happiness and love for her Master soaring at this moment. It was not at all that she did not wish to serve these men, to offer them her body to use as _they_ wanted. Nor did she see this as an opportunity to turn down any of their requests—no longer commands by Kaseem's standpoint. This was not about disobedience or going back on her Mistress's training; in fact, that neither came to mind nor was it even thought of as a possibility, for her very identity was as a servant.  
     No. This instead was simply the receipt of her long-earned respect Jahi had spoken of. She wanted to hug someone, and certainly she would have if her Master were before her instead of this man—and, of course, if they were alone. But she knew among these she was seen as a budding woman, and her Mistress had taught her to forget all childlike impulses. She lowered her eyelids softly, her long lashes keeping her tears from view as they seemed to return from whence they'd formed. "Thank you," she answered as her eyes again opened, and a delicate smile came to her lips.  
     The man returned the sentiment as he raised her hands to himself and kissed one, eliciting a blush from Aqua's cheeks and a touch of giddiness inside her heart.  
  
     The tender moment was broken in an instant as an impatient fellow cleared his throat and brought Kaseem's questioning glare upon him. "So, what now?" he voiced sincerely.  
     Kaseem lowered his brow and passed his eyes among his friends, each wearing the same inquisitive look of curiosity. Another asked Aqua more directly, "What do you wish to do, milady?"  
     _Milady?_ Hearing the title made her turn her head so that her chin touched her shoulder as she peered at the man who'd begged her response. Even as they spoke, she entertained a fancy deep within her, yet still she hesitated to act upon it. It was proving to be not a simple task to go against her training. And yet, it was not entirely against it, for it was _their_ desire that she act on her desires. She blinked slowly, shifting the look in her eyes to one of growing intoxication. Every one of them noticed, Kaseem pulling himself back in surprise, and a gut feeling returned to each of them as they stared into the girl's gaze.  
     Aqua decided—as she raised up and reached for the tulle ribbon that lay upon a cushion and unclasped it from its bracelet—that she would give them a show, one unlike they had yet seen. She was still uncertain about chasing her lusts in their company, but if she considered it a performance, that would perhaps make things easier. She stood straight and faced them, raising her arms behind her back as she slipped the ribbon 'round her hair and proceeded to tie it into a bun. Half of the men frowned at this, watching the gently flowing strands pull away into a globe above her neck, but its purpose was soon to be revealed.  
     As she finished with a bow of sky blue, she placed a knee upon the marble top followed by the other and, to the bewilderment of her spectators, turned away from them. One let out a pleasant sound as he seemed to understand what was to happen, yet the others simply glanced at him, clueless. The girl aligned herself behind Ruby and imitated his position—legs apart, body low—and sprawled her hands around his backside as, without a moment's pause, she leaned in to lick the mess that his rear had presented.  
     The men now climbed over each other in attempts to view what exactly was transpiring before them, and their shouts of approval fed into Aqua's delight. Her tongue licked at the cream-colored stains upon the boy's fair skin, 'round his tailbone and tickling the sensitive area where the valley of his butt just formed. Ruby awakened to full consciousness at this playful attention, though his eyes remained shut as he rested his cheek at the marble's edge.  
     Aqua lapped at the smear of shine that coated half of Ruby's right buttock, working from the outside inward and pressing his soft flesh along with the force of her tongue. The nearer she came to the dimple where more sauce seemed to be oozing out, the quieter the men grew in suspense of the momentous scene.  
     But she let their expectations drop—more a sign of her training to tease and to prolong the show she was offering them, than her want to fulfill her hunger or even Ruby's growing enjoyment. She paused briefly to swallow, then nodded her head down around his other cheek, cleaning it likely 'til the men gasped throughout her deliberately slowed movement just beside the plump rose of flesh that marked the boy's attempt to close his shamed orifice.  
     His legs quivered a little as Aqua's tongue touched again the spot near his tailbone; then she pulled up to swallow a second time. Her fingers traveled down to clutch his soft cheeks, elbows bending acutely as they pointed further away from her, and she squeezed his skin and spread his mounds 'til they perfectly presented his swollen ring as a volcano, messed with the eruption that had taken place nigh half an hour ago. The boy willed his hamstrings to raise his rump, displaying his perineum in the sight, and was answered with a pointed tongue upon the crease between it and his taut pouch. Every bit of his skin down there wore a glaze of spent fluid that had dripped from his once-gaping hole, and seemed to beg to be wiped away with a wet cloth, or in this case a thirsting tongue.  
     Aqua broadened her wanton muscle as wide as she could, encompassed the width of the remaining mess along Ruby's crevice, angled her chin so that her nose would not interrupt her procedure, and firmly pressed against him and lined up his crack, the length of his taint and over that inflamed button that hid the churning motions swirling around inside. The boy gasped and opened his eyes suddenly at the feel of her warm, wet, soft touch grazing past his responsive asshole. It tightened in that moment, then released and seemed to roll outward again, the girl's tongue curling up and into her mouth as a string of semen snapped from it back onto Ruby's pucker.  
     This time, she savored the taste in her mouth; the slimy saltiness was perhaps intensified by the warmth of its freshness. The girl closed her eyes and lifted her chin as she exhaled a moan. In that instance, she imagined only her and the other Gem, as it had been when they were paired in The Room of Preparation just yesterday. They had explored each other's bodies as far as they had willed, then, not so much by order but by desire. Now, the difference was that the two of them were the sole focus of many; yet as she blocked them from thought—and she was presently finding it quite easy to do so—her passionate hunger welled up within her 'til at long last it took control of her, mind and body.  
     The boy's heavy eyelids peeled back quick as fingers dug into his cheeks at the same moment that his puffy ring shot open as Aqua jabbed her tongue inside like a pointed thumb and she latched onto his anus with moist, quick-sliding lips. She made out with this hole as she had his other, licking along his insides as deep as her darting tongue could go, fighting through the occasional clench as Ruby struggled to keep his legs from trembling...too much. She slurped her tongue out and circled 'round his pursed "lips" before suckling it in kiss after sloppy kiss, like a giant nipple erect and leaking its own kind of milk.  
     Then she returned her penetrating appendage in an all-out assault that steadily weakened the boy's bowels. The clenching of his anus came less voluntarily and less frequently; within the girl's mouth, his sphincter would appear less swollen, less wrinkled taut, as it regained composure and relaxed through the onslaught of her pleasantly soft yet forceful tongue. Aqua twisted her neck and jutted her chin, driving that flexible muscle as if in search of the prize of his honeypot. And surely, it lay within, just beyond reach, for her flitting tip tasted that familiar juice seeping down the fluffy walls of the boy's rectum. She suddenly retreated, as if her body had called for rest.  
     Much had changed since first these freeing feelings overtook her. Her temperature was soaring, her head lightly throbbing, her thoughts racing and yet only focused upon Ruby in her grasp. That hole had opened up once again, loose and gaping, and her tunnel vision could spy the wrinkled flesh where his gut took a turn. In this slowed spanse of time, the nanoseconds building, her heartbeat thumped in her ears, external sounds were deafened, and her inhale seemed to draw steam from that empty gap before her. And of all the subtleties piling in her awareness, the pleasant heat in her legs became the power behind her need to succeed.  
     Not two seconds had elapsed when she found Ruby's backside being thrust closer to her. The boy raised his torso upon the support of his hands and gently arched his spine as his legs bent and then bounced up again. Aqua relaxed her arms, only now realizing the burning in her underarms as she dropped her hands one at a time to the table. She needed no coaxing to continue, though beyond her hearing such desiring calls came, and as she pressed forward, Ruby pressed back, and they met in a glorious fusion of flesh as her nose wriggled between the boy's cleavage and her tongue found the fissure once again.  
     Her spine bumped and spiraled and danced as her body took on its most carnal form yet. As she spun her neck and bobbed her chin, the sight could only be allied to a hungry hound snarfing down a meal. Amidst the moans of both children, the lapping of a drooling tongue among plush rippling flesh steadily brought many a spectator to orgasm, a rope or two landing upon Aqua's calf, or her scrunched toes.  
     Ruby answered her tongue with a light bounding of his rump. Though her actions kept him well-relaxed, the angle of her glossal siege was not sharp enough to arouse him beyond a soft, finger-length prick. Yet he could not complain, for contractions were coming in waves as his depths suddenly squirted a thick string of ooze into the cavity where the girl's tongue labored. And as soon as it started, another bead of white blurted out, then a gush of translucent slime. Ruby cried out in trembling delight, and Aqua's eyes shot wide before she hummed into his cheeks and swirled her tongue in the salty froth that spilled around her. He clenched his rectum so tightly, the girl was forced out of him before the viscous torrent flowed outward in succession.  
  
     It was at this moment that the Mistress peered 'round from the hallway leading to The Room of Preparation. She had come up from the dungeon only minutes ago, fully dressed in cloak and hood, bringing Emerald in tow, for his training had proven too much for him. The shouts and calls of the men were made dull by the cave's furnishings, but now they had come to her ears and warranted suspicion.  
     Her point of view revealed Aquamarine at her worst, licking at and slurping upon the dribbling faucet of Ruby's asshole, though the movement in the girl's body was the most telltale fuel for the Mistress's disgust, for she could see this was no longer a show. She sighed through her anger and kept watching, even as one of the men spotted her, adjusted his clothing and motioned to approach her.  
     As he neared, the woman's dark eyes remained fixed upon her Gems. She ever kept her professionalism about her, arms folded above her bosom, careful not to appear as though she were actually peeping. The man stepped beside her, choosing not to interrupt her line of sight, and made a slight bow in her direction. "Kaseem, at your service, Milady," he introduced.  
     She did not answer, not with words nor glance. She could sense his pride, a counter to her feeling at the sudden discovery, and she knew, somehow he was responsible for this mess. Though what the issue truly was, she dare not say in his presence, not for fear of showing weakness. The man paused, as if expecting a cordial response, perhaps even a name exchange, but he sighed when she made no motion to speak.  
     "Your Gems," he began, looking back at them as he, too, crossed his arms, "they are very well put together. I should hope the others in your supply will keep up to parity with these two. My friends and I are well pleased by the red-haired one. She is small and—"  
     "She?" the Mistress cut in, certain herself that Ruby was indeed a boy.  
     They turned to look at each other. "We are well aware what lay between her legs, but she cannot hide who she truly is." He continued, "She is small and versatile, and she can work her body very well. The roses, however..." he suddenly shook his head, returning attention to the pair. "Much too delicate for her. Perhaps a sweeter scent, something that builds in the nose," he said, raising his hands in fashion.  
     She smiled for the first time in a long time. "Cherries, perhaps?" she suggested to his thought, quick to see the harmony in the choice.  
     Kaseem's eyes lit up as he responded with a grin, "That may well do."  
     The Mistress nodded towards him, then bowed politely. "Thank you for your feedback. It is most appreciated." She said this and begged forgiveness as she took leave towards Emerald, then stopped to make one final request. "I do hope your men will have strength enough for this evening."  
     "Milady?" came the curiosity.  
     "Yes," she said over her shoulder, "an inexperienced girl needs training. I would like to see if she can outlast you all."  
     The man's interest piqued further. He imagined a scene not unlike their first with Aqua, and so was quick to accept the offer. "We would be happy to oblige," he said, leaning forward slightly before he watched the woman continue down the hallway.


	9. Reminiscences

     "You came."  
     The accusation from her discerning Mistress could not be denied, but the eleven-year-old stole a moment to defend herself. "They told me to do as I pleased—"  
     "And I _taught_ you to restrain yourself. You must remain level-headed around men. What do you think would happen if a one of them knew what you'd done? All your training would be for naught, your reputation ruined before it begins." Her scrutiny was unrelenting, almost worrisome if not for the fact that Jahi's men were truly of a dense breed.  
     Aqua sat kneeling upon the cold floor, and now collapsed her form over herself in subjection to the woman. "Forgive me, Milady." Her guilt was settled. "My duty is to perform. What is it that you ask of me?"  
     The Mistress broke her glare and turned her head, her eyes falling to the floor with her chin still defiantly raised. "You would do well to remember your training," she answered simply. "You are free to do as you please, but guard your thoughts lest you disobey me again. I've not the time to chastise you now, but I will not forget this offense—" she returned her sights upon the prostrate figure— "so if you falter in this a second time, I shall make time for you and your punishment shall be twofold."  
     The pause in her Mistress's voice reminded the girl that her response was awaited. "Understood, Milady," she answered staunchly, unfolding herself to sit upright once again. At the motion of the woman's hand, Aqua raised up to stand, her gaze ever lowered. To her knowledge, it was not like her Mistress to suspend discipline; but neither would she argue the fortuitous happenstance nor could she.  
  
     Aquamarine had loyally provided service for many years. She was quick to learn as a canine might be, and rarely did she find reason to question authority. From her Trainer, commands became rules; then rules became habit, and habit became instinct. She did not receive deserts, whether negative or rewarding—she was simply taught by the inherent choice to listen. And, in time, her desire grew synonymous with that of her Mistress: she obeyed because she wanted to please.  
     The business was simpler when their paths had first crossed. A caravan was a rare sight, especially one individually driven, though its size was not extraordinary when it arrived within the walls of that kingdom. There was much to be sold, and much to be purchased, but spending was ever dependent on the profit turned. Such were the beginnings of a Legend, yet it was behind the guise of a man named Mikhail. For who would conduct fair trade with a woman of the desert? Her household? unknown. Credentials? nonexistent. Her supply? without renown. But her long-time friend, a man of respect and indeed chivalry, had all of those and more.  
     So it was when they settled in the marketplace, that Mikhail left his "favorite wife" to tend the wares while he was out haggling good offers. A child, hidden among crates in an alley, peered out across the way through the passing crowds and beyond the ox-driven carts 'til her focus became locked on a vast assortment of glass jars. They were beautiful, whimsical, glittering in the strong sunlight with the faintest hue glowing beneath the glare. It gave her happiness to see them, as she had not known of late, and allowed her to forget her life for a while. For since her mother was taken from her—as she described the incident at that young age—she'd had no one to care for her, no one to speak to, for what had only been a month and yet felt like so much more.  
     Few buyers approached the display, many rather awaiting the return of Mikhail, but in her downtime the woman noticed that watchful, yet innocent, gaze. Each sat in their respective place, aware of the other yet not yielding full attention, as hour upon hour passed 'til the playful glimmer of sunlight waned and eventually faded into the warmer radiance of lamplight and torches. Her "husband" reappeared, bringing with him a following of avid customers, and her presence was lost in the ensuing tumult.  
     The girl returned her eyes to her nearer surroundings, as the traffic of many men blotted out any view of her delightful dream. Her stomach reminded her of need, but she would not venture to find food until there were less eyes around. Indeed, she felt safest in hiding, after witnessing other poor children carried off against their will never to be seen by her again—just like her mother. Having not moved all day she found it unlikely she would be discovered, and the swelling darkness was in favor of her stealth. She decided it was as good a time as any to take a nap.  
     No sooner had she shut her eyes than she sensed a presence looming over her. She raised her lids cautiously, then blinked them wide when a pair of boots came into focus frighteningly close. They stood within the alleyway, nearer than the girl would ever allow her comfort to bear, but most notably they did not face her. In fact, as she strained her eyes to look up, the person seemed oblivious to her own presence. She tried her best not to move, not to make the slightest sound, but her tiny stomach betrayed her. It clenched and screeched, and the girl shut her eyes tight as she silently yelled at her body. When the noises stopped, she noticed that nothing had changed, no harm was dealt, and she exhaled in relief.  
     Suddenly, a voice came to her ears, clear, and louder it seemed than the calls and shouts coming from the streets. "My dear," it came gently from above, "you should not be alone outside at night. Have you no home to go to?" The girl felt as though the words were directed at her, but she could not be certain, for the nearest person to her was not even facing her. Still, the words continued, as if the source had received its answer. "These times are dangerous for people in your state. You must be careful of whom you put your trust in." At that moment, an object seemed to fall, or rather was tossed, from behind the cloak that hung like a curtain around those dark leathern boots. It bounced on the dirt and rolled up to her, and the girl stared a moment before the voice came a third time. "I offer my care, if you would trust it."  
     She peered up. She was sure there was no possibility of eye contact, neither from the figure towering over her nor from any beyond which it eclipsed. Slow and calm, an arm reached out to grab the object and draw it close, and testing it with her nose she happily dined upon the loaf. The statue remained there as she ate, and she was gracious for its protection and its gift of food. With her stomach soon satisfied, she closed her eyes once again and drifted into a peaceful sleep.  
  
     The next morning, in the final minutes of twilight she awoke to the pleasant ringing of glass as Mikhail worked to reopen his shop. The vibrant colors of the liquids seemed to continue her dreams even as she yawned herself to full consciousness. Stretching spasmodically, she realized her body was bound by some unfamiliar covering. She turned her attention to it and actually smiled at its discovery, then snuggled back into the warming hide that had been responsible for her calm night's rest. The final stars that dusted the night sky above faded away as she brought her eyes back to the bottles which had by now multiplied, and her heart flitted as the stars seemed to return, and grow, and replace the varied hues with an intensifying brightness. And she sat there happily as she watched a hundred suns rise.  
     She looked on as some early buyers came. Half an hour passed, and the rumbling pangs from beneath the blanket urged her to become active. The streets were safer, now that the sun was up, and the market had enough people in it for her to slip through unnoticed, though not too many that she would risk getting trampled or kicked. Where she would go next, she did not know. She never stayed in the same place for very long; her mother had raised her in the danger of it. And yet, she never had so much a desire to stay where she was, across the way from this pleasant pair, who had brought with them every imaginable delight that her young heart could yearn for. She at least would return the favor the woman had gifted her, perhaps bid good-bye if she could will herself towards speech.  
     The girl uncovered her body from the animal pelt and climbed to her feet, stretching her legs for the first time in almost a full day. A month ago, she had baby-fat to boast: her mother had cared for her surprisingly well in her poverty. Now, it seemed that her bodily reserves had worn away, and her ribcage would perhaps show beneath the ragged tunic that she wore. Though, her stomach was gladdened from her small feast the night before. Rarely could she hope to find so much food in a sitting, and fresh as that which the woman had given her. As she bunched up the small blanket in her arms and headed across the dusty street, the little girl knew she must show her gratitude.  
     "Excuse me, ma'am," the tiniest voice uttered from ground level. Mikhail looked over from the end of his counter as his "wife" backed into a seat to better meet the child's eyes. Little arms pushed the animal skin forward as the girl dipped her head in a sweet bow. When the woman accepted the property back, the tender voice came again as she straightened up. "Thank you for dinner," she stated innocently.  
     Mikhail smiled as he looked on, keeping his distance yet passing his glance to the woman who raised a hand to her heart. "A dear child such as yourself should not suffer so. Tell me, why do you return this token?" she asked softly, nodding to the pelt upon her lap. "I spared it for you. You may call it your own, if you wish."  
     The little girl's face brightened for a moment, and the woman first became aware of the warmth of her eyes, golden as the early sun shining down the lane. It was said that such rare eyes would destine a person for greatness, and indeed the woman found it as fate that they should meet like this. She now knew that she must gain this girl's company, or else they may never cross paths again; but the matter was delicate, the girl extremely fragile, and such a joining of their roads must come at the choice of the younger.  
     The girl's smile slowly faded, and she folded her tiny hands upon her belly, cringing her face a little through a particularly loud groan. She blushed and lowered her gaze to the ground. A finger raised her chin; she saw the woman leaning towards her, and the man, closer now, crouching and offering in his large hand a little sachet. With two thick fingers, he opened the drawstring bag, then pushed it forward that the girl could peer inside. She reached in as the two nodded her on and pulled out a sweet-smelling cube of red. "Eat, my dear," Mikhail begged, and watched her smile return as her tastebuds rejoiced at the delight. "Candied quince," he responded to the slight tilt of her head, and she hesitantly pressed her hand to take another from the pouch. "Do not be shy. We are glad to share with you."  
     The woman nodded, now sitting upright once again. "What is your name, young one?" she asked boldly and yet calmly.  
     "Lelah," came the answer amidst the noisy chewing of a child indulging her appetite. She reached for a candy and was pleased to be allowed yet another.  
     The woman dared to press a different subject, for she needed a direct answer to her presumptions. "Have you any family around, Lelah? Brothers or sisters, friends even?" The girl shook her head, too pleased with her current circumstance to give much thought to the fact that she was indeed alone. The woman nudged Mikhail, who seemed to be so enthused by the child's inhalation of his expensive delicacies that he had not noticed he was serving as a distraction. He cleared his throat, and retracted his hand slowly, almost feeling bad that the girl had not yet eaten her fill. Lelah picked at the pieces clinging to her teeth as she looked innocently up at the woman again.  
     "How long have you lived on your own?" she asked, trying to approach the topic as tenderly as possible.  
     Lelah shrugged her shoulders, having warmed up to this couple enough to let her guard down and open herself up. She looked over at the bottles glinting in the sharpening sunlight and pondered how many sunrises it had been since she'd last seen her mother. She could not count them. But she did remember that one in particular, the night her mother was not there. "The moon was bright and round," she said, turning about and pointing to the western horizon. Indeed, a similar phase had passed through this night. "I woke up from a bad dream, but Momma wasn't there."  
     The two remained silent a while. Mikhail had raised up to answer to a customer. The woman continued, "Do you remember your dream?" Lelah nodded uneasily, then suddenly a flood of tears welled in her eyes, darkening their tone to an earthy hue.  
     "They took Momma!" she broke out before lunging forward and clutching onto the woman's leg, sobbing into her layers as a gentle hand fell to her back. Then she felt another upon her, lifting her up and pressing her to the woman's breast. And she remained there, cooed by the gentle voice of a stranger as she emptied herself of the grief for her lost mother.  
  
     Such were the events that led to their kinship. The Merchant was the closest person to a mother the girl had ever come to know. Though she never spoke of the woman with that title—yet she certainly would have had it been asked of her—she respected her greatly for taking her in, nourishing her diet, clothing her body; developing her skills, leading her etiquette, building her intellect. In public, she was dressed as any virgin, and may have been perceived as a daughter more often than as a maidservant. But indeed, she owed her life to she whom Lelah grew to call Mistress.  
     With passing years, other servants were taken in—older females and some eunuchs—their duties ever answering the call of business. By the time Mikhail settled down to fully devote his time to alchemy, the woman had acquired enough wealth and respect to allow for a smooth transition into her growing supremacy. All her workers, slaves and guards were indebted to her, and they continually repaid her generosities with labor, protection, deliveries, and many other services as need arose.  
     It was with the onset of pubescence that the girl's loyalty was first truly tested. She had followed her Mistress as a shadow, ever silent, ever submissive, and never raising her sights to anyone. But with physiological change came new thoughts, questions, even a seed of independence, and the inward battle to resist desires that would ultimately become insubordination. Her Trainer had warned her of such a process, had explained its progression whenever she dealt with "hired help," purchased slaves. Lelah was privy to it all, as though she were an apprentice, learning so that one day, in the far future, she would take over such a business.  
     But truly, that was not her purpose. She was never taught leadership; only discipline. She was merely witness to all that her Mistress controlled. And it was that openness which had become the base of their relationship, the reason for her devotion, the strength by which she fought these surfacing doubts and selfish needs.  
     Whenever emotions grew tense, the woman would speak of the girl's beauty—never in public, of course, for personal reflection was ever a private matter. And such talk was hardly shallow, for the years had sculpted fine features out of this once-malnourished child, and puberty was just beginning its course to accentuate other parts of her body. Her slender face was sleek and flawless, her bronze skin smooth with a natural luster, and her eyes unique enough to "bring any man to his knees." Those were her Mistress's words, and they always brought a proud flutter to Lelah's heart.  
     Her public image, however, had presented her inconspicuous, a dull nobody tagging along by caravan. Daily, she was covered head to toe in an earthy grey robe, only her eyes revealed by her veil, though her gaze was ever lowered and that fine color kept secret. Even her hair, dark and luscious, was tucked away beneath hood and scarf, protected from both the power of scorching sun and the greed of disreputable men. But this would not be her life forever, and her Mistress had reminded her of that promise time and time again, and more often, it seemed, as these personal doubts came to flood her mind.  
     Convenience was ripening through the Merchant's business endeavors, and the fates would soon collide that would allow her this shift in vocation. But the opportunity came at a steep price, for their caravan was fleeing from a bloodthirsty band of men. Fear tickled the girl's senses when she received the news, yet her Mistress was far from upset—indeed, she was fairly confident of the events to unfold. She lured the tailing clan to Fortune's Fount, a post Mikhail in fact had founded many years ago—and had spent some time there developing his most complex enchantment to date.  
     Lelah had some recollection of this place, but now it seemed ordinary enough; indeed, the choice to stay there came as counterintuitive. It was a valley flanked by sharp slopes, with one long entryway steadily heading down to the oft-shaded basin, and a well-trodden road capped with an impenetrable sandstone wall. Some awnings and tents were set up nearest the deepest end, but none dug into that cliff for fear the embankment of sand beyond it would bury the rest of that trench.  
     When word of a rising storm came to the settlement, many began to move out, packing their shops and climbing that hill before the winds would find the valley. Northward they went, predicting the sandstorm's path to follow the curve of Fortune's road and take a southerly turn if not die there. And as time grew short, two destructive forces now beared down upon that oasis.  
     Though all in her company now feared for the worst, the Merchant kept her wits and approached the cliff to reveal its secrets. What stragglers remained in the town were amazed beyond compare as this foreign driver vanished against the face of the wall! "Dark arts!" came their cries of wonder, and many bowed low when the figure returned from _within_ the cliff. She stood there, partially covered by what seemed clearly enough to be solid stone, and held out her hand to welcome her guards and slaves and oxen-drivers inward; and strangers and vagabonds with no other choice, still humbling their glance, passed into the darkness. And Lelah, not least of all, wore a pleasantly amused smile beneath her scarf, her eyes wide with wonder as she stepped up to the wall, watched others before her vanish as though into quicksand, and took a breath before entering herself.  
     From within, it was as ordinary as any cave, not barricaded shut by rock as was certainly the case from without, but brightened by the ambient sunlight just outside. And the room was vast, their footsteps echoing outward and upward, and though it was dark one could assume the space was many times as large as the caravan's full size. Only after all her property—and grateful worshippers—entered did the Merchant join them inside, giving one final look towards the falling sun as a red haze overtook it.  
  
     _It is solid rock, no doubt,_ came the words of Mikhail to the woman's memory. _But with the proper treatment, it becomes like vapor, allowing both light and the material to pass through it. The result has no time limitation, though neither is it permanent: it is entirely up to the presence of a catalyst._ She alone carried such a reagent, and with her body now beyond the doorway, the magick ceased.  
     The cave grew dark, and all grew silent. The way had vanished; where everyone was certain they had just walked through was now, sure as ever, a wall of stone. Sunlight no longer penetrated it, nor the fists of frightened men crying out that they'd been swallowed up by the earth. Lelah knew not what to feel, but suddenly beside her a dim light began to swell. Her Mistress stood near holding a vial up into the air, and within a white luminescence brightened and radiated to fill the hollow cavern. Fears subsided, and many marveled at the heights of the area, the ceiling a rough sort of grit as though mere sand plastered together.  
     Silently she led her people forward, deeper, into dank tunnels that narrowed into chutes, passageways excavated by Mikhail's men and kept secret throughout the years of Fortune's fame. Though the Merchant was certain they would not be followed, and it was clear the storm's danger could no longer reach them, she grew troubled at the poor time they were making in advancing. They were stepping as lively as she could urge them, but the beasts she had brought were proving stubborn in the crowded place. If they spent too much time within the earth, she knew the animals would eventually become dead weight. Unfortunately, though, she knew not how far the courses would drive them before they would reach its end.  
     Lelah was calm throughout the journey, granting her Mistress much more respect after the execution of this stunt had secured not only her life but that of the many others traveling with them. The woman truly possessed some ulterior knowledge that kept her from showing any signs of fear or regret. And perhaps it was her likeness, which had budded and bloomed over years of serving her, that allotted the girl much comfort during the trek, as well as a passive response to their arrival at the long-awaited room. The tunnel's walls and ceiling steadily spread out to reveal a cavern as tall and round as the first, though it was not empty: someone had been there, and had left behind crates and barrels, stacked high at its center, with a note set neatly in view.  
     As the group filed in and spread out once again, the woman approached the stock and read the letter to herself. Mikhail was a generous friend. As it turned out, he had founded a spring just beyond the walls, through a doorway only she would safely be able to find, and learning this she made her way to the sandstone perimeter and walked about it, grazing her hand upon the surface. In time, the transformation revealed an opening, and as suddenly as the source of amber light appeared, it vanished with a howl of wind and a violent battering of sand. The storm, it seemed, had followed them northward, and only time would allow their freedom from the cave.  
     Half an hour, it seemed, passed before the Merchant attempted to open the way again, and when it was found safe she stood in the wall as she had done before until all under her care emptied into this new territory. Many men apart from her caravan flocked 'round the water source. Less than their expectation to find one, they were surprised to see it was unguarded—unclaimed it seemed, though its craft was unmistakably artificial. Their gratitude vanished, replaced by greed, and suddenly they were making threats, against each other as well as the spring's rightful owner. With hardly a second's thought, the Merchant called to arms all guards at her disposal, and they slew every outsider in her sights.  
     In the desert, water was worth killing for; though, this was not a matter of mere survival. Each was delirious from underground travel, yet thirst for water was not their motive. Lelah knew this as surely as her Mistress did, but still she looked away with each ring of steel that left an untrustworthy soul decapitated or gutted. Had they not supped at that well, any of their bodies would have been satisfied to go on. Nay, each man had caught a glimmer of hope, a reawakened dream, that this was their chance to lead, and they would cut down any who stood against them. For, it is the strong that thrive, and power goes hand-in-hand with wealth, and everyone knows that the strongest and wealthiest of this harsh environment command the distribution of water.  
  
     As shifting sand in the turning of an hourglass, so was the commission of this businesswoman transformed. No longer was her calling out upon the dunes, but like her far-off associate her time had come to settle down. She knew he had labored personally to bring about this change, and with his further help she saw this idea coming to full fruition, but as her slaves worked to build up a more formal establishment, she could not have guessed her fortune when the very man responsible for the hunting party which gave reason to their flight turned up at her doorstep.  
     Lelah remembered the meeting vividly. Her Mistress had prepared her for such an encounter, through months of training and much more recently a change in attire—for her days of nomadic convention were over. Settling into this more permanent "home" meant as much an identity-shift as a fulfillment of her dreams of no longer hiding her beauty. But it came as much a surprise to her as any other how soon she would be called to live up to her preparation.  
     She first heard the man's voice as he conversed with her Mistress over some business or other, but her heart began to race when she was signaled to enter their company. Her first impression of the man was quite high, and she found herself quickly forgetting the considerations she had made prior regarding the likelihood of his attractiveness. Rare were the occasions she absolutely fell for a man's appeal, and this, who was to become her first, was perhaps the most handsome she could have hoped for.  
     She locked eyes with his through her veil, strode closer towards him as a part of her mind inspected him—the remainder kept her attuned to her Mistress's expectations, the words she chose, the tone she used, the looks she gave. The girl broke eye contact only to test the first of her tricks: she peered down her own body and slowly began to flex her bare stomach, and when she glanced up again he'd taken the bait and was shamelessly staring at her form. He looked away for only an instant, as if snapped out of his daze by something his Hostess had said, but she brought his focus back on her, daring to reach out a hand and almost trembling when she realized that she, a servantgirl, was touching a man—only his cheek, yes, but that she could initiate contact was most dazzling to her experience, and further that he would subject his attention to obey her direction...suddenly Lelah felt a burst of courage to carry on with this duty.  
     Unabashed, she recalled a beat to her head and silently let it overtake her, the rhythm flowing through her movements as she had been taught to do, and her Mistress's pleasant gaze showed approval when the man seemed as putty before the erotic display. His pupils widened ever so slightly as he watched the young girl spiral her lower half downward, and he shifted his footing in a difficult attempt to remain formal. Suddenly, a point in the discussion distracted him fully, but Lelah continued her dance with closed eyes, the movements becoming her as warming sensations tickled her thoughts. She was instantly reminded of the feel of his skin, the roughness of his shaven jaw, the firm youthfulness of his cheek. She found herself imagining him allowing her the pleasure of disrobing him: her delicate and somehow experienced hands slid beneath his clothing at the nape of his neck, feeling the muscles of his shoulders and back as her cheek brushed his body. She'd reveal his arms, chest, abdomen, all strong and powerful, solid and unmovable through the gentle squeezing of her touch.  
     Her gyrating form faded into the background, and then was lost entirely when the man learned the true identity of the woman with which he spoke. Somewhere in the midst of the tension, the heat coursing through Lelah's body reawakened her to reality, and she abruptly stopped her motions, as if hurt that no one was paying her heed any longer, and not least of all the man she was hoping all the while to seduce. She had failed. For this man, business seemed to come first, and how could she possibly appeal to him when her life's training was put towards pleasure?  
     She met the ground with a silent air of disappointment, and sat there calmly as the two adults continued their talk. Occasionally, now, her Mistress peered down at her, and she straightened her posture in response, careful not to forget her place though her mind was torn between how she should act. For truly she enjoyed the short-lived moment of control she had exercised over her prey, but her owner conducted a greater authority, one that somehow appealed more to this man, one that she could neither wield nor imagine. The girl recalled many times when her Mistress was taken advantage of while "serving under" Mikhail, but now she could command as any man could, without question or threat. Such power was attractive in its own sense, it seemed, but where the woman lacked grace and good looks, her maidservant commanded another field.  
  
     Finally, the woman brought attention back upon the presence, and purpose, of the girl, and as she took leave down the hallway Lelah raised up from her seat and approached the man at his. He looked at her bare stomach, admiring her slender twists as she spread her stance, reached one hand out to rest upon his shoulder as a leg bent and knelt upon the cushion—his eyes following his own advance as he cradled her side in his hold—then allowed the ribbon between her wrists to drape behind his neck as she settled her other side symmetrically about him.  
     Silently they watched each other, breathing and feeling the other where their hands lay, and each seemed to wait for the other to take the next step; for, the man had never been with a girl so delicate and young—he could not even guess her true age—and Lelah had never known the touch of another. Gently, he moved his hand to pull her closer, and as she stared down at him—since she had kept her waist elevated and did not yet find the comfort of relaxing upon his lap—she craned her neck to meet him with a kiss, melding their lips in a forced embrace by which the man quickly, and gladly, took lead.  
     In an instant, the girl's emotions soared, heat flooded her senses and she found herself gripping his frame more firmly, and the feel of his tongue exploring her virgin mouth seemed to awaken a deeper excitement she had never known. Below, his fingers sprawled across her lower back, with his thumb still pressed at her tense side; he lay his other hand upon her thigh, slipping over the material of her leggings as he spread over the girth of her leg and molded her skin underneath.  
     Lelah quickly fell into her growing intoxication and answered his actions with her own flare of interest. She settled her rear onto his lap, breaking the kiss for a warm breath as she passed her veiled nose 'round to the other side of his, a hand simultaneously clutching his neck and thumbing his bristly jaw as she jerked her chin to and fro, playing her tongue teasingly within the man's mouth. Her lower half danced against him, grinding lightly but mostly swiveling in his grasp.  
     Soon, both his hands migrated to her hips and he moved to take their affection one step further. He was the one to break their kiss this time, and the girl reluctantly accepted the change as she felt his fingers tug at the waistline of her clothes. She swallowed a gasp and bit her lip as she submitted to his groping hands, peeling beneath the band of her leggings and hugging her backside, digging his fingers under her seat and lifting her weight 'til she brought herself upright once again. With her added height, the man gave Lelah a funny sort of smile before craning himself forward to nuzzle the base of her sternum—just under the gold edge of her top—and leave tender caresses upon her slim figure. One hand slipped up from beneath her clothes and sprawled little finger to thumb along her spine, holding onto her softly and yet fully in his embrace.  
     The girl's body jolted. Her back curved slightly in retreat as the sudden sensation spiked through her and a subsequent rush of heat filled her loins. A fraction of her mind called her to stop, for she thought she knew what her body was doing, and it made her blush as much in shame as from her rising temperature. But the man's kissing gradually sank lower, and his breath tickled her side, and she found herself curling backward, steadily more sharply in display of her flexibility, hair cascading behind as her hands moved to the back of his head.  
     Her balance was phenomenal, for she neither raised her knees nor inflicted force upon the man's advances, but the tip of his tongue teasing within her navel made her recoil and collapse over him; she quickly buried her hands beneath his cloak as though that were the true reason for the abrupt shift of her posture. Her desire responded to him again as she felt his strong back still guarded by a flaxen shirt, and he drifted his nose upward, quietly taking in her scent, and kissed her upper arm as his hands straddled her hips once again. His shoulders shrugged gently, enticing her to free them of the cape, and the girl answered by use of her teeth, loosening the strings that bound the covering to his neck and separating her forearms to nudge the material off of him.  
     She followed it downward 'til her hands met his waist, and she dared to reach under his shirt—pausing to gauge his reaction, which seemed as pleasant as she could hope for—then raised it delicately, helped it pass over his head, and held it for his hands to pull through before tossing it aside. The two stared at each other, half of Lelah's face still secluded behind veil, though he made no motion to remove that article. His present interest lay further south, and she too felt it was soon coming: the moment of revelation, when another, a stranger? nay, a friend who was treating her with such loving care, would not only see a part of her no other had seen—aside from those she would call "mother," of course—but would touch and taste and feel as wholly as one is able to, the flower of her virginity.  
     And she knew at this point in time, as assuredly as she knew the color of her hair, that she wanted this man to take from her that which indeed he sought. She leaned over him, hooked her chin upon his shoulder and slid her hands all about the vast new territory of his bare back, as she felt her waistline bear the cleft of her young buttocks, slide 'round and tenderly down her thighs, the man's hands almost teasing as they remained over the fabric yet worked to bring the clothing away from her crotch. The stretching band held more tightly to her legs, and when she felt it resisting further removal, she lifted her posture as upright as she could, body pressed up against the man, his chin resting at her navel as he looked upward along her figure. Tilting her head to peer down and meet his gaze and answering it with a loving smile, she slowly, tantalizingly—using his sturdy body for support of her arms—raised her knees 'til her toes could aid her, and steadily brought herself to stand over him.  
     From her view, Lelah could only see his eyes—lower now—staring sweetly back at hers, but she knew the crevice of her groin was now clearly visible above him, and happily she felt little shame of the fact. She reached her fingertips up to the rough-cut ceiling, stretching her body and accentuating muscles at her sides as he tenderly tugged her pants 'round her knees, revealing her slender calves, and bunching finally at her shins. He looked down a moment, unclasping each anklet that held the cuffs snug to her feet, then helped remove the leggings entirely and pass them out of the way.  
     His hands indulged in the feel of her bare legs, wrapping over her soft muscles 'round back as he kissed his way up first to her knees, then, slowly, her inner thigh—eyes ever closed, though Lelah was trembling at the advancements too much to know the difference. Heat tickled her spine once again, and jaggedly increased and spiked the higher his caresses went. When his lips met the warmth of the girl's crotch, he raised his lids and lifted his sights as he paused and waited to receive her attention. Her breath stuttered, and she remained reveling in the suspense, the strong yet soft touch of his fingers traipsing over her butt and teasing the start of her crack, and that second electric shock riding through her and calling out a gasp from her lips, waking her focus down to his begging eyes.  
     Heat-flushed yet aware as ever of her position, she offered him the permission he seemed to ask for, a gentle nod and a quivering lip as he nuzzled the delicate fuzz sprouting 'round her private area. Her body was his to command, now, though her heart appreciated his patience, his gentle consideration. Suddenly, her toes curled, her eyes weakened, and her exhale was quick and hot in the moment his tongue parted her folds and dug out her hidden bump, a part of her she'd been little aware of until now. Her stomach tensed, her spinal column jerked, for never had she felt direct pressure to such a pleasurably sensitive area as _this_. His second attack drew out a squeaky moan from the girl, the first of her voice to reach his ears, and the third collapsed her form so that she arched over him and passed her fingers through his hair, clutching onto him as her thigh shook in spasm beside his cheek.  
     Again, warmth filled her crotch, yet this time as much took over her senses, filling her mind with a sort of thirst, or perhaps of a need to release. Of what, she did not know. The heat? It was building in her now, coming through in waves as he continued to play his masterful tongue between her legs. The pressure would subside with each lapse in his contact with _it_ , but it would return in full force the next second he touched her. And it seemed to her that her body was now reaching out to him, _growing_ perhaps to respond to this unique sort of kiss. Her moans were steadily present, as a soundtrack to their love-making, so carefully muffled at times that Lelah was sure she was only breathing heavily. Neither was she even conscious of the grinding motion her lower half had taken on, answering a subliminal desire to have more of him.  
     Another shockwave jolted through her, this time accompanied with a flex of her abdomen and an overwhelming feeling of moisture softening a deeper part of her. It felt familiar, and yet very unique. Her assailant paused at this, slowly sprawled his hands over her upper legs, and gently suckled her inner thigh 'til her mind unclouded and she realized her small fingertips were pressing into the man's scalp. Lelah straightened upright, blushing immensely as she checked herself and hesitated to meet the gaze of her master. But he showed no annoyance; indeed, he was feeling just the opposite.  
     A passing numbness flushed down her body, and she soon found herself upon his lap once again to keep from fainting. With cheeks still pink and eyes still glazed, she rushed a succulent kiss upon his lips, then retracted her chin and broke it slowly, licking away a line of saliva. Through her veil, the man could see her line of sight was due south, and as his eyes followed, her fingers lightly felt his firm abdominals, stopped a moment at touching his trousers, then leisurely swarmed around their drawstring. A returning glance upward showed the girl biting her lip as she loosened the knot and his waistline, then offered him another sensual kiss while she pressed her palms to his rigid stomach and blindly dug her fingers down to his treasure-trove.  
     To her quick surprise, his manhood was fully grown, though still a bit pliable. She moved the brim of his pants with her wrists as her hands wrapped around his girth and pulled it to the open air, but still she dare not look at it. She felt 'round it, and stroked it from mid-length to base, keeping her greater attention upon the embrace of their mouths, the now commingling of their tongues. The man laid his hands beside her rump and massaged her oiled skin, as her straddling thighs occasionally ground closer to his crotch. Finally, she could feel his heated rod pressing beneath her navel—she pulled her body as close to his as her thighs would allow, parting their lips and raising up 'til his length settled at her crotch, and slid her arms about him as she tenderly kissed his neck.  
     Her heart was racing by now, his penetration of her imminent, but she could only yield control to him. She casually humped him, brushing her soft hairs against the foreskin hugging his tip. She would perhaps be labeled a "tease" for such actions as this, especially in so climactic a moment, but though she was indeed hopeful for what was surely to come, it was not her place to make demands for it. Her duty was, rather—as her Mistress had ingrained in her—to ensure that her master wanted it more. As his fingers wrapped under her buttocks and steadied first the angle of his shaft, she silently took in a deep breath and counted the seconds. He lifted her, his ultimate arousal slipping within her pelvis and settling at the nook of her young sex, then delicately lowered her frame upon it, nuzzling the side of her neck as it pushed against her, and she pushed back, 'til it finally passed her hidden barrier.  
     Her mind flickered. One moment, he was knocking upon her entrance; the next, a part of her felt broken and pain pulsed through her senses. She released the air in her lungs in a likely manner, her facial expression seeming to break and cringe as her tight youth now grew apparent in her mind. When she managed to open her eyes, the fullness of her sensations seemed to return to her: though the pain echoed in her gut, she found her body once again held up by her lover. Had he entered? She could not say. Surely she felt it, but even now she couldn't recall the very instant. He suckled the bareness of her shoulder, and slowly the aching melted away into numb heat.  
     Then, pressure, leading again to the pain she was now fully aware of. He seemed to be forcing himself upon her—or, more accurately, her upon himself. The temperature became unbearable as he was now certainly inside of her, and though she could not guess the depth, the width seemed to her the size of a fist. In reality, he barely fit the gap of her thighs; though, he was indeed making advances, backing out every so often as the incessant throbbing within her shifted from pain to pleasure. She found herself no longer resisting but spreading _for_ him; and she recalled to mind all his care that even now he was showing to her body, and it reawakened, in that moment, her desire to have more of him. And though the pain was still present—her insides surely stretching as he tapped his way deeper—her lust was a welcome distraction from it, and her sudden burst of arousal added to that of her master.  
     As though in response to the question of her comfort and readiness, Lelah forced herself downward as low as she could go, clutching the man's back and even clawing at it to mitigate the splitting sensation of her depths. Her face flushed a brilliant crimson as she sat upon his lap, reveling in the fullness inside her. She laid a kiss upon the nape of his neck, pausing to remind him of the utter closeness she felt towards him, and then her loins tightened as she raised her frame and, trembling, pressed down on him again. She slowly built a rhythm; her breathing followed her bounding, occasionally spilling a moan of sheer ecstasy, and soon all pain subsided as she pleasantly performed for her master's gratification.  
     Moments melded. The girl's loins were throbbing, but not with pain. The man's face grew tired, but not with sleep. Muscles tightened, figures tensed, breaths became vocal; and as Lelah's thighs began to burn from her ride, a sudden heat and pressure filled her depths. It seemed searing hot, compared to the warmth already resonating throughout her body, and the simultaneous clutch of her lover driving her motions to a halt made her conscious of the reason. More of it pumped within her, and she felt each pulse of it drain from the man and fill all the tiny spaces left inside her, and finally the heat of it spilling upon her skin as still more continued to escape him.  
     She could not help but smile, even giggle a bit—that his climax came so quick, that he came so much—but this childlike response was soon masked beneath another enduring locking of lips completely free of teasing as her love for this man filled her being. His large hands lightly beheld her lower half; her tiny hands weakly rested at his shoulder blades. Their kiss brought together more than just lust in the literal heat of the moment, it sealed more than what that sloppy link oozing into her seat stood for. In Lelah's euphoric mind, this was intimacy as she had always wanted, and now she simply would not do without more of him.  
     Her body bucked. His hands jumped and their kiss broke slowly. He squeezed her flesh, and they rejoined lips, then she teased hers away from his, giving him that sly grin in answer for her action. He clutched her upper thighs, stomach tensed as he suddenly lifted the two of them upon his feet. Worried eyes for fear of falling crossed Lelah's countenance, and she hugged him close with legs and arms while he swung her 'round and leaned forward, now with a hand upon her back. She opened her eyes as his movements slowed and she found him laying her gently over the cushioned ottoman.  
     She uncoiled from his frame, and his hands slipped from hers, his cock slunk from her socket. She fixed her flowing hair before resting her neck back. Suddenly, his hand came to her cheek, and she looked to see him knelt beside her. Silent, his tender touch slid up to her temple, his other hand meeting the other side, and with her awareness of his action, he removed her tiara, the veil coming with it, and slowly met her golden irises for the first time. And she watched his—blue, glinting with a light of silver now—'til he was moved to speak. "I've not seen a more beautiful creature as this lain before me, nor any more innocent or trusting. Pray, tell me your name? that I might link it to all else you have shown yourself to be." His fingers rested upon her cheek as she looked over at him.  
     The girl started, then, as if pondering two choices, she recalled her Mistress. Anonymity had its uses, but these did not affect her, being a mere servant and child. Instead, her Trainer's reasoning behind renaming her was in line with the rest of the new identity crafted for the girl. It was a sort of role she had become, different from whom she once was, though she certainly could not go back; and that not by ill-design, but simply because this was whom she had grown to be. And though she may continue to remember herself as Lelah, the name she now gave for her lover's interest spoke of a new reality, a better one. "Aquamarine," she stated softly, blinked slowly, and then added, "sire," in politeness.  
     He nodded and smiled, as if amused at the name she'd given of herself. Brushing her cheek, he asked, "May I call you Aqua?" She nodded lightly, smiling as well more from the cuteness of the petname. "Aqua, my dear," he began again with a sincere look in his eye, "You've shown me companionship as I've not had in a long time. I would like now to return the favor to you." She tilted her head slightly. He had done just that and more for her already. Truly she wanted more of him, but she did not know what that _more_ was or could be. The man seemed to catch the innocence in her gaze, and it reawakened his passion with which he might provide her with this gift. He leaned forward to kiss her, slowly and tenderly, staring into each other's eyes until the last possible second, and Lelah felt his warmth return to her body.  
     He raised himself and stood over her, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of his manhood: hanging just outside his trousers, thick but not too thick, long but not too long—just the right size, she thought—though it was yet growing as he parted her knees. For she lay, now, flat along her back, feet resting at her butt at the edge of the seat, her insides absently closed around the remains of his deposit and holding onto it as though that were the gift he had spoken of. He peered down at her blushing entrance, and she at his inflating shaft. In the dim lighting, a red smear could be seen coating his girth, especially amidst the cream-colored lines still strewn from tip to base. She thought again of the link they shared: a part of him within her, and a part of her on him.  
     He directed his stiffening member and leaned forward, and she pulled her legs up against her torso, curling her rump up from the cushion, then slowly wrapped her heels around his waist as he pressed his tip once again inside her, parting her lower lips and easing himself inward through the sounds of churning liquid of his last spent delivery. The girl blushed at this, and brow furrowed when she felt him once again squeeze into her grasp, eyes closed and jaw quivering when he became fully solid in the heat of her hold.  
     No sooner had the squelching subsided than it continued with his newfound rhythm of thrusting, only this time he drove downward into her as much as inward, grinding his bone along her inner walls as though he was aiming to clear her folds of the juices that had settled there. She could feel collections of sticky fluids being brought out of her with each retracting pull, occasionally gathering enough to drip away through her outer folds and making her clench 'round him when it tickled her anus. But nothing made her tighter and so suddenly aware of his movements as the finger that sneaked its way into their crotch and prodded that hard nub that had almost gone from her memory. She jolted alive, her voice squeaking a moan in surprise, and she looked up at him with mouth agape.  
     He dug his downward angle deeper, and ground along that button each time he slid out, keeping his finger down there and now wrapping it between two. The girl groaned and clenched nonstop, feeling again the deep build-up of heat and pressure and now electricity riding constantly up the base of her backbone. He lifted his gaze and quickly answered her begging eyes with a full kiss. The motion of his hips lost momentum, but the flush of heat through her body starting at her head was far too great for her to care. Their lips separated, and the rhythm returned, and now his hand retracted only to hold her soft frame and feel it in his grasp.  
     Her legs clung to him as firmly as ever. She begged to have more of him, deeper, wider, fuller. She could feel him tapping the start of her womb and she wished it would open to take him in. Maybe that is what he meant in returning the favor, because that is what she wanted more than anything right now. His hands advanced up her body, 'til they came to rest on a chest of drawers just beyond Aqua's head. He now dug his full force against her, following a sharper angle that continually drove the girl wild. Through heavy breathing she found it difficult to remain reposed, often uttering a gasp in place of a less womanly grunt when she could manage.  
     Sweat streamed from her sides, her thighs, her temples. The girl's tiny frame bounced to and fro with the force of his thrusts, and she found herself gripping his arms in order to push herself back against him. Heat suddenly rushed through her yet again, and a split second of conscious thought reminded her of the man's explosion earlier, though this feeling grew much differently. Her depths seemed to liquefy, and yet simultaneously become solid. A shockwave of raw electric power froze her body for a few seconds, then softened her like putty around the man's driving shaft. The reaction came again, this time lasting almost twice as long, and her abdomen tightened as her body seemed to be releasing its pent-up pressure as a soaking moisture in her depths, and the softness returned before another bout of electricity rode through her.  
     Her master's thrusts slowed when one of her instances of clenching choked another orgasm from his length, pumping quickly into her open walls and then squeezing 'round him with each successsive contraction her passionate climax brought on. As Aqua gently came to her senses, and lowered the decibel of her screams, and heat finally cleared from her head, she looked up with throbbing vision and slowly focused on the tense figure of the man arching over her. Her weakening legs unlatched from his waist and he slipped from her drenched lower half as she continued wriggling beneath him with some excess energy. She looked aside, then up and struggled to meet his gaze, almost passing into a faint as she recalled her surroundings and the breakthrough experience she'd just encountered.  
     All she was certain of, all she knew, was her lover staring into her eyes, giving her emotions she'd never known, new desires for him alone, and an assurance that he cared for her happiness as much as she was meant to serve his.


	10. Green with Envy

     Jahi had long since moved the caravan out, and the oasis was now but a glimmer upon the horizon. He considered that they had made good progress in the heat of the day, due perhaps to his decision to travel so lightly. He had brought with him three of his camels, no other beasts. Not even an oxcart was among his burden, for the purpose of this outing was to find slaves, not to sell potions. Though some lesser wares had been packed away in the saddlebags, the majority of his assets were measured in coin.  
     'Twas a business angle his Partner had never trusted, to deal solely in currency. Its value was too versatile, and it attracted too many thieving eyes. Bartering cargo had proven itself a much safer transaction, but as much as his heed for the Mistress's advice, it was just that: an opinion. The caravan's troop was prepared to defend it, whatever the adversary; but if Jahi's masterful plan were to unfold smoothly, then they would find only allies on their journey.  
  
     Servants worked furiously within The Room of Preparation, running fabric and taking measurements from Peridot who stood solemn and still as a mannequin for them, and they stitched and sewed according to the unique specifications that their Lady had requested. By an hour's time, the four had settled its form and began tempering the material into comfortable wear, hemming in the cuffs of ankles and softening the waistband's trim. An hour more and the Mistress ascended from her dungeon duties to judge the progress of the garb.  
     Peridot modeled the fine leggings and the company of seamstresses looked on with nods of delight as they inspected both their craftsmanship and the approval of their headmistress. "Very good, as usual, ladies," she told them, admiring the work that time and time again brought her ideas to life. She was especially glad of how well the trousers held themselves together, as they were lacking an obvious element of support; yet no doubt this sort of wardrobe for the girl would dictate the extent of her abilities, the only purpose she would serve at all. Indeed, she envisioned similar outerwear for Emerald, as neither had the figure for dancing. One of the servants strode to the table's edge where the hourglass stood and reset its cascade of sand, marking a mental note for all that the eleventh hour was now upon them.  
     The Mistress brought her eyes upon the girl's round face and uttered a few words to her. "Your final hour has come, my dear, and there is still much to be done. Undress," she commanded, then turned to one of the servants. "Prepare a vat of mint for this one, and be quick about it. Prime it to soak a quarter hour. We need as much time as we can get for the drying." With a wave of her hand and a nod from the other, the Mistress dispatched the slave and called another's attention. "Fill a decanter and bring forth a tray of chalices. These men will need a boost to carry them through the night," she added with a smirk. "Peridot, my dear," she said, walking to the doorway as the two remaining workers received the fresh garment from the girl, "come with me."  
     The ordered servants had disappeared into the stockroom, but the Mistress brought her nude maiden in tow to the dungeon once again. Her light complexion made her figure glow within the hallways and down the stairwell, almost blindingly so in contrast. Her gait was unsophisticated; she walked with her heels, and with no particular swing in her step. She descended the stairs with hasty steps, slowing only to keep from tripping into her owner, who had paused to swing open the wide door at the room's entrance.  
     The woman suppressed a smile as her gaze fell upon Mercury driving his full force to and fro, with Amber's frame more than receiving the assault as an immobile mount. The odor of sex filling the dank space soon became muddled with a stronger scent, and one glance beneath the table proved to the Mistress the source of that new stench. The color of the puddle that collected between the boys' legs was indistinguishable in the faint lighting, but it could easily be guessed as even the ever-professional headmistress raised a hand to address the burning sensation in her nostrils.  
     She approached the head end of the table, taking care not to direct too much attention towards the Gems and so disrupt the moment. She raised the lid from the potion crate and pulled out a flask of Vim&Vigor, then, seeming to weigh her options, lifted also a fresh jar of Aphrodite's Cure. Fading out the rattling glass, the creaking wood, the satisfying slaps and approving moans, the woman thought through her plan: _The wine is weak. For men of their stature, one cupful would flow as water. The scarlet liquor would certainly add body to its feel, but the proper dosage would be tricky to control. For, what if one man consumed more? It would stand to reason that his system could handle it, unless he aimed to drink himself into a stupor. And then the green liquor might counter such an occurrence, but how much more it would affect one who had not drank so much. And which would be the worse extreme?_  
     She had little time to devote to such decisions, and finally settled that it would be left to test. Still, she was certain: the draughts would not touch the girl's lips. For, whatever the turn of events, she at least assumed the men would be selfish with such a gift as wine, especially if they were unaware of the true concoction she was to offer them.  
     The Mistress set the jars aside and closed the crate once again. Then, calling Peridot to her side, she reached for the bottle of blue goo, removed its cork and, with gloves still donned, stabbed two fingers within and retracted a delicate smear of the stuff. She replaced the cork carefully and turned towards the girl; she parted her digits as a pair of scissors and silently rubbed one upon Peridot's left areola, then the other upon her right, 'til the colored gel appeared as nothing more than a stamp of glue. The sensitive spots tingled promptly in response, but the Mistress waited nonetheless.  
     After wiping her glove clean upon the inside of her cloak, the woman grasped each nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched them, firmly at first as she gauged the girl's facial cues, then more sharply as she tugged and twisted them. "These men may not adore you for your skin, my dear," she said, continuing the torture that thankfully did not yield more than a furrowed brow from the girl. "But there are still some tricks we can use to increase your sex appeal." Even as she spoke, the tender bumps began to deepen in shade and stand out—and up—on the shapely mounds of her chest.  
     When she deemed she could gain no further response from them, the Mistress released the girl's nipples with a satisfying outward tug. Faintly, she could see veins surfacing 'round her mammaries, and Peridot would sense the slightest throbbing sensation as she peered down at the now prominent nubs which she ventured to fondle of her own accord. Her Mistress allowed her, noting the likelihood that the girl could not presently gain pleasure from the action until the anaesthetic wore away; and by that time, the men would perhaps be giving it to her.  
     "Now," the woman carried on, once Peridot seemed satisfied with the modification, "your height is another bothersome feature we cannot change. Your masters may find it intimidating that you stand so erect before them. There is a technique known as _contrapposto_ ," she said, reaching out her hands to adjust the girl's posture, "that should remedy the issue...as well as increase your attraction," she smiled. Peridot's body took on the needed form through a gentle coaxing of her spine, hips, shoulders and neck. One leg locked in place, the other stepped out to the side; behind, a crease might be seen under the one buttock. Her abdomen curved and twisted smoothly up to her shoulders, which remained level—as opposed to her hips—yet had been rotated to bring the stretched side of her body forward more pleasantly. Her neck tilted up and back to balance the overall form, with her hair neatly covering the exposed skin.  
     "Very nice," her Trainer commented. "Now, shift your weight to the other side," she ordered, hoping the task of finding symmetry would not be too difficult. The girl obeyed, almost too easily swapping one stance for the other, though her facial expression grew more apparently bored. Her Mistress nodded approvingly, paying the added detail no heed, as she was already operating on such a tight schedule. Further training for this girl would come in time; attitude could not be dealt with so quickly, yet her appearance showed her to be more than ready for this appointment.  
     "Yes, that will do. It's time to get you dressed, my dear." She placed a hand upon her shoulder and pressed her towards the doorway, watching her figure as she strode away with her newfound slouch. The woman brought a parting glance upon the others in the room: Mercury still riding through his high, Diamond still hanging limp off to the side, and Sapphire, curiously, clutching the girl's calf as he suckled a finger and stared at the others.  
     The door groaned shut, and the two returned to the presence of the seamstresses. The leggings had been drawn from their bath and were being pressed. The Mistress stepped over to a cabinet and unlatched a door, searching through the collection of bangles and armlets and other fine jewelry. She selected a pair of silver anklets, thin but not dainty, and a matching pair of bracelets, as well as a larger ring of silver she thought could pass as a necklace—its tight fit might help suggest that this girl was meant to be ruled, though her demeanor definitely presented the opposite.  
     She clasped the adornments upon the girl's body, saving the anklets until her leggings would be dried. Her feet were washed in oil, the very same that had infused her pants, and as an impromptu feature—and perhaps simply to spend time as they waited—the Mistress painted a gloss of silver finish over the girl's onyx. She proved to be as proud of the results as of the punctuality of the pampering, for soon Peridot stood dressed and ready to impress as the final grains of sand were flowing.  
  
     Having finished their evening meal, the men left their tent to find a servant awaiting them. She bowed in representation of her Hostess, and requested their attendance within the cave. The foremost he turned to face his comrades and called lively to them, "Come, gentlemen, the time for indulgence is nigh!" They went forth at different paces, some hurrying along like giddy children, Kaseem and another straggling behind as they carried on a hushed conversation.  
     "Jasim, I do not trust this...innkeeper. She keeps too many secrets, and even our captain has fallen prey to her. She has him out running errands while we remain here playing with children."  
     "You are too tense, brother," his comrade noted. "You think she is trying to separate us, as though we were a bad influence on him—"  
     "She knows our strength. She is playing against it to her benefit, whatever that may be. But I am wary of her." Kaseem's eyes swelled with disgust. "I will not let her tricks get to me," he vowed. Jasim smiled at this, and even chuckled lightly, receiving an air of confusion which soon faded into realization of the running joke. Thought of it suddenly lightened his heart. "Tell me, my friend, which do you prefer? the blue or the red?"  
     Jasim raised his gaze as he pondered the choice. It was a difficult one, but finally with a sigh, he settled an answer as any man would have: "Blue for beauty, red for feel." The two shared a laugh as he continued the thought. "I envy you, Kaseem. You had both upon you at a single time. You take for granted the fortunes you've received. This is our life now, and would you ask for anything else? Forget the affairs of our captain, this woman. Many men would give up much to be where we are—and perhaps they will. But may that no longer concern us."  
     Kaseem nodded reluctantly, "You are right, my friend, as always. But neither should you fret. I hear there will be many more whores as time passes, enough for each of us to have a handful."  
     "I should hope that is the case, for my hands are bigger than yours!" Cheerily now, they both entered the cave at last, seeing the others reclining 'round the pit and supping from fine silver goblets. "Wine!" Jasim cried in astonishment, calling after the waitress who had passed him a cup once he was seated. "What is the occasion for this gift, I wonder?" he asked the others, before downing half of his serving rather noisily.  
     The servant smiled beneath her scarf as she disappeared up the hallway. Other nameless bodies milled about to perform various tasks, snuffing out lamps and lighting unique candles that gave off a brighter, yet colder ambience. Soon, the area even felt less inviting, and the men hushed their voices in wonder of the show that was to start. The tiny white flames sat shoulder-height upon the floor in a ring outside their pit, casting an eerie bluish tint inward while everything beyond the circle seemed secluded behind a curtain of black.  
     Whispers of dark magick flooded their thoughts even as a gentle fog crept along the ground and began to cascade 'round one man's neck and down among them. A few chuckled as they watched him jump in surprise, but silence returned, and awe, when the tender clasp of a cymbal rang through the thickening air and beckoned each one's attention upstream. The candlelights there flickered and fought against the surging cloud, and though they seemed too strong to be doused, their fluctuating brilliance seemed to draw back the curtain for a moment at a time, long enough to raise each man's awareness of the additional presence.  
     Slowly she stepped, silently as well, the smooth vapor cushioning the sounds of her bare feet striding along the stone floor. Another high-pitched ring of the cymbal echoed her sudden entrance within the ring of light, and she still seemed a ghost to all who beheld her, with skin so pale it glowed as the fog. It was an honest moment before any noticed the craftsmanship of her garb. She was topless, no doubt, but her legs seemed mere frames of fabric showcasing her womanhood in all its natural glory. The green silk formed just beneath the flow of visible air and rose in delicate bunches up to the girl's thighs, yet its cover carefully and deliberately avoided the sensual center of her figure, each leg tapering neatly towards her hip and holding to the silver band around her waist there.  
     She continued her stride around the pit, behind their shoulders yet within the sharp lighting. Her feet appeared to carry the cloud along her path, streams of it dipping down over the perimeter of the benches as it flowed in her wake. The chilling scent of mint leaves wafted by as each man traced her leisurely movement with their gaze, some marveling at the uninhibited sight that the fully developed girl presented directly beneath her, or of her backside as she passed.  
     When she reached the second descent of stairs, the fog encircling the entire pit and plunging the men's knees beneath its flow, she finally dared to step among them. For the most part, they each seemed completely captivated by her bareness. She was not beautiful by their standards—not even close to Aquamarine. Some had even sneered at the thought of gaining her attraction; in their minds, she should be in the Amazon's position, where they would gladly abuse her body. Yet she, too, was not interested in any of them. Perhaps, in her mind, she _was_ in Jet's place, and this performance did more for the amusement of her owner than for her individual "training."  
     Ma'mun was one such antagonist among them. He was sat to her immediate left, lounging fully upon his seat. As the girl came among them, she raised a foot to the marble platform and began to curl her form forward to help herself up, but Ma'mun siezed the opportunity to ruin her balance, kicking her backside and quickly responding in hearty laughter as she was pushed to fall upon her side, then continued and slid entirely off of the table, landing at Kaseem's feet as a puff of white swirled up over her. Others displayed their mirth, and even Jasim could not help but smile as he reached to help the hand that had tried to clutch his knee.  
     "This is not the sort of entertainment I expected this night," Ma'mun began as the girl was steadily pulled up from her fall. He reached for his goblet and frowned to discover he'd already emptied it. "This clumsy oaf cannot even tempt us properly. Isn't it obvious? She's been dusted white because she's no better than a clown for us." He wheezed out another laugh, and gained several chuckles from the others beside him, but Jasim was busy inspecting the girl more closely as he lifted her from the cloud.  
     Her scent was soothing to him, and though her glance was uneasy as she accepted his support, he dared to speak on what he felt her behalf. "She is not painted, brother." He smeared his thumb roughly across her arm and showed the lack of residue.  
     "Much worse!" Ma'mun called. "She was born a clown!" His words now amused many more strongly, and Peridot began to blush at their jeers. The man pulled himself upright and passed a hand out to his comrade. "Come," he called to Jasim. "Give her here, and I will show you all how to treat a jester."  
     Jasim was hesitant, but also curious, as he and Kaseem led her 'round their knees and over to their eager friend. The girl was even less enthused to take up company with this man than any of the others, and her nervousness only increased her ineptitude as she stumbled within his reach. She outstretched a hand as if to take his, but he refused to meet it, insulted by the request. This added to her discomfort, and her fingers trembled as she retracted her hand to instead pull hair behind her ear.  
     Ma'mun parted his legs wide before her, and cleared his throat as he nodded her attention to his crotch. She took the hint and descended to her knees, her body still quite tall though she bowed between his feet. Yet, as the girl arched forward and broke eye-contact, her digits hovering towards the folds of the man's robes, suddenly his hands came down around her head and thrust her face down against himself, all the while laughing at the stunt he'd pulled off. Her arms flailed and passed from his thighs to his arms to anything else she could possibly grip as she struggled to breathe air that was not being filtered through this man's trousers.  
     The others in the circle shared in the moment, one nearly spilling his drink as some of it dribbled down through his beard. "Look! She's no longer white!" Kaseem's comment brought a heartier chuckle from others.  
     When Ma'mun finally let go of the girl—her pink form springing upright as she inhaled deeply and held back a few coughs, her hair now frizzy and unkempt all along her scalp—he looked at her and his amusement instantly faded, displaying the certainty of his resentment towards her. She resolved herself and bowed before him again, yet the man's glare turned horrific as she dared to try a second time. Just as her fingers were sliding up to his waistline, a strong hand slapped her jaw so forcefully, the sound rang to all around and her body was tossed aside to collapse into the cloud.  
     The others laughed and drank to the scene, but Ma'mun could not be bothered to show humor. He felt the girl knee his leg as she crawled along, and in response he raised his foot to kick her, taking the wind out from her as she rolled under the brim of the platform. The man looked 'round to his peers—some on the verge of shedding tears—and tried to gain their consolation. "She touched me!" he said, as if even the thought of it was causing him grief.  
     Perhaps it was the seriousness of Ma'mun's countenance that allowed Kaseem to answer his astonishment, though he struggled to hold back some of his own amusement. "Ease yourself, brother," he said above Jasim's most riotous form of jollity. "Is it so bad to learn that someone is attracted to you?" He burst out in laughter, and some others now found it difficult to catch their breaths.  
     Ma'mun's brow lowered as he raised a hand to lecture his comrade, but was interrupted by the other who sat beside him. "The girl is new," the light-hearted man spoke. "She does not know how to act, so we must teach her."  
     "Oh, what do you know, Asim?" Ma'mun replied as he now turned towards him. "You cannot teach a woman. If she does not know how to please a man, she will never know. And so this pathetic excuse for a prostitute is a worthless investment." Their cheer subsided as even Jasim's heart came to rest. Ma'mun returned his attention to the others, especially focusing upon Kaseem. "This place will not turn a profit, with rabble such as this, and we—" his expression changed as he stopped, peering at the cloud around his knees where he had meant to kick his foot into the girl again. "Where did she go?"  
     The others looked and felt around for only a moment, before a familiar voice brought their gaze up behind Ma'mun. There, the headmistress towered as she cast her sights around the pit in mock surprise of the situation. "I hope you all have not forgotten yourselves this evening." The men fixed their postures and straightened their attire, while Ma'mun especially felt her glaring down the nape of his neck.  
     Kaseem ventured to raise to his feet and presented his hand before him as he leaned over it in greeting. "Milady," he began calmly, "it seems some of us cannot find agreement over this token you've given us."  
     "Peridot," she called to the air, and waited 'til the stirring cloud revealed a white hand upon the bench-space between Ma'mun and Asim. Nervously, she pulled herself upright, her eyes careful not to gaze upon anyone in particular. Her stomach held a greenish blemish, which her headmistress could not forgive. She inhaled strongly but silently, then demanded of the girl, "Who did this to you?"  
     Her eyes first raised to her Mistress, then her chin, and fear was in her gaze as her limbs began to tremble. But she remained still—a poor choice if the woman were prepared to chastise her.  
     "Answer me, girl," the words came sternly, though her glare was softer than perhaps she meant it to be. A shaky hand began to lift and a sole finger threatened to point at the guilty party in front of her, but Ma'mun's outrage at the girl could no longer be contained. As he stood, he swiped his arm out and to the side, tossing her down into the seat next to Asim. Before he could continue his intentions, the sound of a sword being drawn cut through the dense air, and a long blade from beneath the Mistress's robe pointed above Ma'mun's clavicle and awoke him from his fury. "Do not lay another hand upon the girl."  
     Peridot looked up, uncurling from the fetal position she had taken on, and struggled to understand this sudden feeling of being protected. There, above her, a man ready to strangle the life from her was being held back with the tables now turned upon him. Kaseem had fallen back to his seat, yet his hands were out as though he were ready to pounce. The others had grown tense of the situation, but it was clear who had the high ground here.  
     "What is your name?" the woman asked her target.  
     He stuttered his reply, "Ma—Ma—Ma...Ma'mun," now finding himself in a completely different frame of mind.  
     "Well, Ma'mun, you have worn out your welcome here," she said smooth and decisively. "Kindly return to your tent and do not let me see you within these caves again."  
     "But Mi—" he started to plead, before the tip of steel pressed upon his skin.  
     "I do not wish to shed blood, but do not test me." Peering into her eyes seemed as though a flickering flame resided there, though the candles around were all shielded by mist.  
     Ma'mun leaned back and stepped aside slowly, careful to keep his gaze only upon this woman. He gently ascended the stairs as he watched the sword lower, and steadily made his way beyond the ring of light. To those behind, it seemed as though he vanished into thin air, but the transition was nothing special for him. Now, though, he could clearly see everything else around the pit, and the other eyes surrounding them: the slaves in the shadows who had gathered out of curiosity, the guards letting him pass who were prepared for the worst. As he reluctantly hobbled past the final doorway, the chill night air echoed his emotions as he headed for the men's camp.  
  
     As the headmistress sheathed her sword behind her cloak, Kaseem begged explanation for what had transpired. She looked around the pit as she granted his request. "You have one purpose, and one purpose only. That is to help me train these slaves until I deem them ready for public use. I have purchased them for such, and that is how they will be used. I have no tolerance for the mistreatment of my wares. I do not ask for your approval of these children, but I do ask for the respect of my property." Her softening gaze fell back to Kaseem. "If that is too much to ask, you are free to leave."  
     The man looked upon the others as if considering the option himself, but he did not waste the full moment in thought. "We are pleased to do this for you, Milady," he responded gently.  
     "That is good to hear," she answered, giving a slight bow towards him. "Now, is there anything else I may do for you gentlemen?" she asked, her voice soft and just above a whisper.  
     Jasim bravely pointed a hand into the air, and she lifted her gaze to it as he happily sat up. "May we have more wine, Milady?" he begged, as he could not help a wide smile from spreading across his face.  
     She responded in kind, and raised a hand to beckon the cupbearers. The woman remained until the two made their appearance: Ruby first, followed soon by Aquamarine. Sounds of delight escaped the men's lips as they realized the graceful pair. Gropes and gripes were passed among the hem of their ankles, and pleasant smiles were exchanged as calls for attention were made to the young Gems. In turn, they stopped beside each man, crouched and brought their platters low, and refilled their cups one by one.  
     "Three for the price of one, tonight," a man commented, but his fantasy was cut down quick.  
     "They are simply here to wait upon you," the Mistress spoke stringently. "They are forbidden to pleasure you in more ways than company..." she continued, receiving several disappointed responses, "...this night, at least. For now, your duties lay with Peridot." The girl had already begun to pull herself up more comfortably, and Asim had even settled a lustful eye upon her.  
     When all had gained a second helping—and some were quick to request a third—the woman took leave silently, pleased with the hastening effects of the drink as each man was starting to find a thirst for it. Asim's lips now explored the girl's shoulder, his hands spreading over her chest, while others loosened their clothes or made their ways closer. Peridot watched as the two colorful backsides of her peers faded into the blackness and she was now left alone, the centerpiece of attention among five hungry men.  
  
     Her Mistress, however, did not return to the hallway. She did not head for the dungeon, nor did she remain nearby to look upon the action. Her determined stride led her out from the cave's entrance into the night air and beyond the stone gateway of her courtyard. Some distance away, Ma'mun sat huddled against a campfire, nursing it to grow as he fed it tinder. She was careful not to frighten him as she came into his view, and after an unpleasant grunt and acknowledging nod, he turned to see that she was not looking directly at him, but instead upon the blaze.  
     They remained silent for some time, only the tearing of twigs and flapping of heat coming to their ears. Then, she uttered words that quickly gained his intrigue. "You have much anger. I do not wish for you to bring it inside my establishment. But perhaps you can aid me outside of it."  
     "How do you mean?" he spoke, as if to the fire beneath his hands.  
     "Will you be the captain of my guard?"  
     He lifted his gaze up from the flickering tongues, but still did not focus upon the woman, nor anywhere to include her in his view. He did not respond, but neither did she continue on. Her motive was duplicitous, for she wanted to tame this man before he would find reason to strike her; yet she always wanted to separate each, slowly but surely, from the powerful clan they once were, to drive a wedge into their company and steadily divide their strengths.  
     "What of the others?" Ma'mun asked. "What offers have you in store for them?"  
     "None," she replied, "as yet. I wish you to solely take up security, with my guards at your disposal. And in exchange..." she paused, as if weighing her options at this point, "certain accommodations can be made for you."  
     "Such as?" He now looked up at her face, but she did not yet meet his gaze. Instead, she looked aside and slightly behind, her ears catching the grunts of animals.  
     "I still have need of one brave enough to tame Jet. Perhaps this...anger you have..." she started, turning now to look at him, "can be harnessed for that purpose?"  
     He could not deny such a proposition. Jet was the rarest beauty he'd ever seen, and certainly the idea of having her body all to himself was as alluring as the girl herself. And what was more, he would become Jahi's second-in-command, as it were. Two positions so tempting, he could not even set time aside to consider what the innkeeper was gaining from this offer. Almost too hastily, his answer came with a wide smile and a nod of approval. "Deal."


	11. Stars Upon the Night

     The twilight still glowed overhead as Ma'mun sat huddled over the flame. He did not feel remorse for what went on within the cave, nor could he sense jealousy for his brothers' places. Yes, the Innkeeper had threatened his life, but he was quick to forget that given the circumstance. It was simply not his desire to be among the rest of them. If hunger moved him, he would eat, and if he did not like the food, he would abstain. He was not some dog to be commanded to act when it did not suit his mood. What did he owe to that woman? Certainly neither respect nor duty.  
     Curious, it was, that she sought to buy his abilities, to bring them under her reins, so to speak. As he stared into the flames which began to dance as they met the cooling night air, the man dared to question her motives. Before his friends, she had banished him from the business. He had enjoyed himself while it lasted, and he'd certainly preferred Aquamarine's features to any of the others, though she might have been too childlike to truly arouse him. Her frame, at least, seemed fragile; he was amazed that she had handled two men simultaneously, but if he were ever trusted to have her to himself, she would surely break.  
     The boy had proven a fair substitute to Aqua's now bound status, and though his body was smaller and features softer than the girl's, he seemed to prefer rougher treatment of what he had to offer. And it is this which truly appealed to Ma'mun, the attitude of willing submissiveness which drew his attention and inflamed his lust. And then this taller girl, much older, had height and figure which could possibly satisfy his groping hands, but her complexion was wretched—according to him—and it was something he could not easily set aside. Much worse, he found that she feigned interest in her purpose. It was a joke to her, and so she became the joke. He would gladly break her in if she had resisted, had denied him the pleasure. Oh, how that would cause his loins to burn, if he were instead given that chance.  
     But the Mistress had offered another to him, as though she knew precisely what he sought. _Perhaps that was her reasoning_ , such thoughts came to his mind, _and I simply played into it._ Was he a fool for it? She didn't need him to lead her guard; indeed, how could she even trust him? She'd shown that she couldn't. What she needed was a trainer for Jet, and Jahi had already relinquished the task. The offer wasn't payment for receiving his duty: It was backward. His duty was to train, to break and rough up 'til either body or mind became pliable to command. And channeling his anger to become one of her guards? A waste of potential. If he were to deal any damage to the strong will of the Amazon, he would need all at his disposal to overpower the brute and keep her in line.  
     And then, he realized something, and this came to be at the heart of their discussion only moments ago: there was nothing in it for him. He had already lost his place among the others, which he could hardly count as detrimental. He had yielded to her when his life was at stake, and so had shown his weakness. He had promised to head her guard, but that would do nothing for him, if only to pledge himself more devoted to _her_ plans. And if the savage of a girl could be tamed, the Mistress, again, would benefit most. So the concept of due payment returned to Ma'mun's thoughts.  
     Perhaps he was quick to agree with her earlier, but if she truly saw his abilities as something to be gained, he wondered how else she might be willing to purchase them. He had seen many desirable items when traveling with his captain, and given the twist of fate he and his brothers had experienced, piles of wealth seemed now not too far from his reach. After all, employment should be more than a simple trade-off. Actually, continuing his thoughts, he should be paid for _each_ of his duties: as trainer, and as guard. He now considered requesting her presence again.  
     Or should he wait? She surely had business to take care of. No doubt, she had returned to the dungeon while the other men indulged in their nightly binge. He could rest on the day's affairs and have a clearer conscience in the morn with which to haggle her, but the night was still young. Indeed, the sky above had nearly settled into one deep hue, and stars to the west had only yet begun to show. Out upon the eastern horizon, the gibbous moon had finished rising, yet the shadow of the dunes was cast over their valley.  
  
     Ma'mun rose up from his seat with a grunt and kicked his sandal against the coals where he'd allowed the fire to die, no longer in need of his care. He stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders outward as his arms tightened and then relaxed. He cracked his neck as well, then turned to approach the stalls where oxen now settled, tied to their posts, and camels rested as immovable peaks. Jahi's lone giraffe was kept far from these others, in a pen beside the awning chained to a stake at its center. But none of these gained Ma'mun's interest; for, ever watching him since his arrival, a pair of golden eyes amidst a dark face—glowing behind a wiry curtain of strands blacker than night—were his lure.  
     He stepped heavy-footed up to her cage, her folded form flattened against the coarse, beige floor. Her knees were pressed high in her confines, her hips bowing out beside her sharply. Her thick skin hugged powerful sinews along her thighs and calves, her back cut into toned divisions and the ridges of her vertebrae only visible near the base of her spine, where two strong buttocks wrapped her backside beneath her only piece of clothing, as deeply dark in this weak lighting as the tresses of her scalp. Her oily hair, bedraggled by dust, spiraled and swept across the sand that had risen beyond the bars which formed the bottom partition of her cage.  
     At her neck, hidden underneath waves of filthy locks, sat a collar, a loop of metal forged some years ago by her first captors. Its only seam had been welded shut, so that her jaw became the lock that bound it to her body. Above it, though equally shielded from view, rested tight leather straps and pieces of metal which held a wooden bit that she had chewed to oblivion, enough to loosen it from her lips in her spare time. None dared to replace it, for only Mikhail had the stock capable of sedating her, and to do so without it would be foolish. In the daylight, it could perhaps be seen that many of her teeth had been chipped or sharpened, but that a part of her primal upbringing.  
     Her eyes remained fixated on the man, now just out of arm's reach before her steel bars. Shackles and chains still bound her extremities, neatly nestled beneath her frame. Each of her nails were at one point as sharp as her teeth, but under Mikhail's management these had been filed into blunter ends. Ma'mun glared over the girl with certain attraction to her, but otherwise he kept his facial expressions stoic. Her skin tone was a wonderfully deep shade of brown, darkened perhaps by the brilliance of the desert sun. Aqua's color had luster and warmth, but this creature seemed to engulf such tender feelings and corrode them, twist them inside-out and discard them.  
     He longed to feel her skin, to clutch her if only to commit the moment to memory. He imagined her tough, tense with power, and this increased his desire. "What would it take to claim you?" he muttered aloud, his thoughts now coursing over her body as his eyes shifted their focus downward. He passed a hand beneath his cloak as his mind's eye considered a scenario: her upper body subdued by his hand, her wrists chained and stretched out of harm's way, while he molded a muscular pec in his fingers and even ravaged her mighty loins with his stabbing prick. Her muffled cries would come to him not as tearful but as curses that damned his advances, her voice strong and deep. Blood would soak her legs as he tore into her and even broke into the entrance of her womb; his hand imitated this perceived tightness with a clutching grip about his glans as now his shaft peeked from his drawers.  
     Lightly, his eyelids shut as the dream continued. Her body language had once tried to deter him, wriggling and writhing away from his penetration, but now that it was firmly attached to her, she'd learned that her struggle increased pain. Sure enough, the initial inward thrust had torn unprepared flesh and the friction along those wounds was difficult to bear, but her body could no longer reject him, and she would not soon find that her words were driving him on. Lubrication came in the form of countless red drops seeping 'round her lips, but more of it pooled in her depths than was being dragged out from her. With each tug of his skin free from his tip, he imagined himself penetrating her ring, dipping into this fluid-filled cup and then being rung dry with each withdrawal.  
     He could not hold out any longer, and finally felt the tension at his center release itself through a speedy explosion of thin drips that rained over the cage before him—some landing upon metal, others falling through and speckling the black canvas of his muse, as glistening stars upon the night sky. Her awareness flinched at the sudden presence of these upon her skin, and she'd twisted and pulled herself up and back into a corner as this shower sputtered a thicker brand. Two or three lumpy strands made the distance to her cage, flinging over bars and wrapping around them, their drippy ends hanging and swinging with the momentum of their force, another landing upon the sand and blending into the ground. Others continued to pump from the man's slit and spill before him or smear down the wrinkles of his skin as he gradually halted his jerking motions.  
     He inhaled deeply and brought his eyelids open again, making note of the girl's retracted form with a smile that caught the humor of the shift. Her gaze was no longer piercing as it passed between the face of this perverted man and the swaying remnants of his discharged lust. Ma'mun was now pleased to see her full figure bared before him. She sat upon the balls of her feet, each leg bowed to either wall of her corner as her elbows pointed outward as well, her hands clinging to bars near her sides with links of her chains arching over her stomach and others draping to a pile before her. Her front scrunched into a few wide ripples, leading up to her heaving chest where two shapely melons attached to her body, dusted over where grains of sand had pressed to her skin. The girl's scraggly hair fell from her forward neck and carried a dark shadow under her jaw, frayed ends meeting at her ripe nipples and reaching no further. The view of her center was barred by cloth that was tucked along her groin, its foremost edge cascading sleek and smooth to the ground beneath her.  
     As he stood admiring her, Ma'mun found that his lust had reawakened for her, but he was curious to see that she began to outstretch her neck, cautious at first while remaining under this other's scrutiny. Her facial features had softened slightly, her cheeks less tense than they had been when he was squirting his seed at her. She pulled a hand forward to catch her shifting weight, resting on her knuckles as was her inhuman nature, and leaned into her balance, keeping her shoulders at ever the same height though her spine carried her head fractionally lower. Her chin began to press forward before she stopped herself, her eyes now surely focusing upon the lightly trembling white string that stretched an inch from the upper bars.  
     Ma'mun caught this near-sighted look in her eye and chuckled to himself in glee. _Had no man ever gifted her such?_ he pondered. Maybe this was the key he was searching for. Even as he considered the onset of the girl's submission, he watched her nostrils flare before the drop, her yellow eyes glint with light as they drew nearer and the soft lips of her mouth peel outward as they reached to catch the gelatinous substance and pull its curious flavor down from where it hung. It instantly clung to her skin—as if compelled by some magnetic force—and slipped away from its wet stain like a snake from its burrow, landing as a bright line across her lips which she dragged inside with a quick swipe of her tongue as eyes glanced up at the treat's source, and then further to the man's face. She pressed it to the roof of her mouth, and he watched with increasing delight as her neck shifted in assured swallow.  
     "You like the taste?" he spoke to her, raising his brow slightly. He and his friends had settled earlier that she could not understand their words, though that would not keep him from expressing his thoughts to her. He'd already considered her an animal—and in such a circumstance one does not necessarily speak in expectation of reply, yet the emotion in his tone might at least be conveyed across worlds, just as she was showing herself calmer and perhaps a bit inquisitive in front of him.  
     Her eyes peered up to him once more, as she jutted her chin up to the bars and her nose escaped through a hole, the pink tip of her tongue sliding out to gather the residue she'd smelled there. Ma'mun watched her intently, his shaft inflating again as it hung amidst his robes, but otherwise he remained still with a pleasant smile frozen upon his face. The girl's gaze softened, became delicate even, yet his focus came to the playful movements of her tongue, wiping the bar clean, replacing its shimmer with her own.  
     "Hmmm," he sighed out above her, imagining that tongue working upon his tip. "If you would but ask, I should give more to you," he uttered before taking a deep inhale as a hand pressed his robes back and fingers wrapped about the base of his iron pole.  
     As if in response, she raised a long-fingered hand to the bars, clawing the air outside with soft, sweeping movements as her neck carried her chin to other square openings, her outstretched tongue almost beckoning him as her head twisted to one side, and then almost completely around to the other. She clutched the bars and drew up her other hand, which she slipped through an opening slowly, the chains of her shackle limiting her reach before she pulled it back within.  
     "Oh, how I long to have you," he began as she continued to writhe about in her cage, the light clatter of metal links being the only sound apart from his voice. He took a firm step forward as he held onto his manhood more fully, breathing loudly once more. "Your bosom is glorious. Your physique, unmatched." He watched her brow furrow, as she no doubt grew impatient with the boundaries between them. "You must not know the feel of a man, burning inside you, gushing." His skin wrinkled to and fro along his thick handle of meat as he willed another foot closer. "But I would gladly introduce you to it." An image of her bare crotch flashed before his thoughts, and he sighed in response. "You must be tight as any, with such brawn all over your body." One clawing hand rattled against her bars gently, while a faint moan might possibly have escaped her throat beneath the sounds, her eyelids most certainly dipping shut for a long second.  
     Ma'mun grunted as he began to move his hand more steadily, his nostrils now taking in the cool air quickly as his body turned it to heat. These actions from her greatly aroused him, assuming her innocent mind knew not what it wanted, or rather what it would one day receive from him. She begged now, yes, but he could easily see her screaming cries for mercy as he'd pound his way through her virginity. And when the one grew accustomed to his girth and force, he'd claim her other hole just to have her begin denying him all over again.  
     In his delight, he steadied his stance before her once more, knees slightly bending to give her tongue more of what was soon coming. "Ah, yes my pet," he said, loosening his focus as he brought quick attention to his blushing tip, "your meal is prepared and ready to serve. Give me your soft tongue, to catch what I have to offer you." His dazed eyes imagined quite vividly her mouth opening, her squirming ceasing, and the deep pink of her gullet gaping as a target beneath him; and his tunnel vision brought him nearer, as he honed upon his mark, a bead of juice shining in his slit. And as his limit was finally reached, and his eyes struggled to remain focused upon her golden irises half-hidden beneath her own weakened glance—as that slick drop bubbled and expanded before its momentous jettison into the slave's wanton mouth—his pleasure began to mix with equally high levels of pain, centered upon his crotch, and the man stumbled forward with a sudden exhale that released all of his energy at once.  
     Beneath the collapse of his frame, as he now lay stunned over that animal's cage, a tight fist had clutched his clothes in just the right spot to command this man however she wished, and it squeezed with increasing pressure and fingers dug through cloth and skin as the tender orbs settled in her palm and slowly crushed into first a bruised and then a tearing bloody mess that even tugged them free from his body. His voice was gone when his climax spilled from his urethra by its twitching force, and with his center pulled up against the bars, his shaft had found its target closer than he had dared, for his tip was upon her tongue, oozing silver and white and red into her open throat before the most devastating attack came in the form of jagged teeth piercing his skin and driving deep, cutting tendon and tearing muscle, severing the man's pride as pupils widened with the taste of his fresh blood.  
     His eyes rolled back and his jaw remained dropped, the strength in his limbs failing as a bloody mess poured down into the cage and ran down his robes, beneath down his legs. His form began to curl and his weight slunk off of the enclosure. And while he lay there, his body trembling uncontrollably, beside him loomed the twisting form of a creature, his blood smeared all around her lips and dripping down her chin, from her now bared teeth and inside her cheeks—the gory mess of his prick's head limp and deflating upon the sand. She stared at his face with bright and shimmering eyes, tilting her neck as her spine swiveled her shoulders to crawl along the wall of her cage, ever fixated upon the final erasure of the light in his eyes.  
  
     As the blue light of the moon began to drench the scene, cloaked figures standing upon the dunes which overlooked the settlement lowered their spyglasses and passed signals along to another. Within the walls surrounding the fountain, guards returned motions of hand and neck before one moved to enter the cave. A quick glance to the side caught the sight of Peridot upright and kneeling over one man, her chaps still covering her legs. Her attention was turned away upon a man, helping him along with one hand and her mouth, while her other hand gripped another man.  
     But the guard continued on his path, down the walled hallway that led to the inner workings of the Harem. The opposite end branched to other ways which led back to either side of the main room, or towards private holds that yet remained to be furnished, but the guard continued past these and found the stairwell which descended to the dungeon. He knocked upon the door barring its egress and awaited a response from within. After perhaps a minute of utter silence, a pair of feet approached the door and the voice came: "Yes?"  
     "The deed is done, Milady."  
     She smiled to herself, yet her reply revealed no such joy. "To plan?" she asked.  
     "Better than," came the answer.  
     "Inform me of sunrise. We shall need the light."  
     "Yes, Milady." And footsteps carried away up the stairs.


	12. Peculiar Pussy

     As the night drew to a close, each of the children in the dungeon were given their rest, chained to a different section of the space to keep them separate from the others. Diamond's suspended weight slunk now fully supported by the shackles upon her wrists, a half-sleep passing over her amidst ever-present hallucinations and unfulfilled desires. Over the day's course, her copper-skinned front had steadily become coated with a shimmer of slime as beads of drool piling upon her chin progressed as tiny glaciers down the gentle slope meeting her neck, gathered and overtook each other as streams formed, rolled over her clavicle and pooled a moment with stronger force before parting again 'round faint hairs that guided their paths over the soft rises of her sprouting bosom. The spillage sprawled and widened as a delta upon her abdomen, with some trails flattening into her skin while others would continue to pour downward, slip through the young thicket priming her crotch, and meld with the more fluid secretions flushing from her silken folds. These drenched her inner thighs with a sweet scent that quickly grew sour yet constantly pressed out of her in renewing waves, the orifice of their production retracting its petals as a receptive flower, her pink depths swollen in unquenched agony as they awaited any willing penetration.  
     Sapphire was not easily pried away from the girl's presence, despite the unusual smear of liquids trailing down her legs. He had apparently grown attached to her from the moment she joined their party; perhaps it was the flowing robe she once wore. Yet even though she no longer wore that dress—indeed, none of them were allowed the decency to wear clothes in this dim, sweat-stained cellar which thus far reeked of more pungent odors—they had each found pleasant company in the other's presence, though Diamond's mind might have desired that he was taller than he truly was, and perhaps more curious in regards to her body. His tears did not affect their Mistress when she was forced to separate the two, but once he'd been assured of his predicament, his untested body curled up and drifted to a peaceful sleep.  
     Emerald had returned to their company with a balm upon his backside, and though sitting caused him visible discomfort, he found the willpower to rest his legs for the night. The ring upon his boyhood had long been removed, his Mistress sure no harm would be dealt. She had yet to decipher his particular appetite, but it was perhaps turning out that he had none, by which she was prepared to cast one for him. Curbing his pleasure was a simple task, but she'd needed to build in him a sense of enjoyment for his work. No doubt he had liked the sensation that filling a hole produced, and had as equally loathed the feeling of his own body being used thus. For his own sake, his Owner had begun to consider publicly labeling him as heterosexual; she assumed his weak will would be better respected if ever the case arose that he would serve a female client.  
     Mercury proved difficult to detain, for his lust continued on unsated, and even with each arm bound to a different direction, he still found ways to stroke his unfaltering erection. His Mistress supposed the lesson learned: they both now knew the effect of the brew upon his particular case, and as his reaction was undoubtedly the prouder, the application would now serve as his psychological control. Empty promises can go a long way in training a slave, she had discovered; the boy could perhaps be taught to act as though under the influence of the potion, or coaxed to believe he were, if not actually receiving the drug from time to time. His dosage would now have to be monitored more precisely, however, as the potency of his recent consumption had, still, yet to diminish.  
     Amber was the weakest of all, his thorough usage throughout the day a symbol to all else what should await them if they could fit no other bill gifted them by their Trainer. Lugging his spoiled rump from the table and dragging his limp weight to his own corner was tedious, if not wholly pointless for he'd surely be upon the stained wood at his next session, unless some other plan for him could be entertained. The creases and folds along his skin held tightly to various grimy secretions, as this one was the source of all stench that would ever flood the room in the night. As she rolled him over and propped him up against the wall, stretching his arms up to chain them back, his soggy prick took a moment to peel free from the glue-stamp he'd produced over the course of countless involuntary orgasms. Much of the stain had turned to crust, flaking beneath his navel as that little wrinkle of skin came to rest between his thighs once more.  
  
     The headmistress was glad to have this moment to herself as she pulled the dungeon door shut and began to ascend the steps towards drier air. The change in atmosphere did wonders for her mind's clarity, as she headed up the hall to check on things in the main room. Peridot was leaning forward as she straddled one man, his hands resting upon her thighs as she lightly bounced her hips over him. Her attention was down over him as he pressed her closer with a hand sprawled upon her back, a soft breast dipping nearer to his wanton tongue. Clumps of white gel could be seen upon her head, holding together several strands in their grasp and weighing them down against her scalp as freer hairs fell and flowed with gravity and motion. Another man looked to be lining himself up to penetrate the girl from behind, while another granted her mouth usefulness. One reclined, as though resting, while still another went about from chalice to chalice in search of more wine, the clatter of their tipping brims landing sidelong or upside-down upon the stone dictating his disappointment.  
     As she watched, a familiar voice called her attention behind. "Forgive me, Milady." Aquamarine stood in full bow with her arms hidden before her. "We've run out of wine to fill their cups with."  
     The Mistress turned to face her. "Things seemed a bit dry," she said before brushing by her to pass into The Room of Preparation. Ruby pulled himself upright from a seat as she entered and headed straight for a potions' crate. She pulled out another draught of red, and one of deep green. Earlier, she had been hesitant about the proper ratio, but it seemed that there was not enough Vim&Vigor to counter the wine's body. She poured another wineskin into the empty decanter, then a nearly equal amount of the more potent green liquor and gave it a gentle swirl. After a moment, she added Aphrodite's Cure to the mix, leaning back slightly as the aroma of it wafted up into the air.  
     The children looked on curiously as she divided the fresh concoction among new goblets, set them upon a tray, then proceeded to deliver them herself. Ruby and Aqua shared a glance, then stepped out to follow her, keeping to the shadows at the end of the hall as their Mistress continued on to her habitués. Before she broke beyond the barrier of candles, she eased herself to stop, choosing instead to interrupt them with her more delicate voice rather than the shock of her sudden appearance. For, inside their ring, they could not see her; yet outside it, all was plain.  
     "Tired so soon?" she asked, settling above the man who'd seemed to have drifted off.  
     The others looked up from their focus, though quickly returned to their previous actions. Kaseem—upon the girl's rear—retracted from the moisture in her loins and suddenly pressed his lubricated member more forcibly upon Peridot's backside, breaching that virgin blockade as eyes sparked wide and throat grunted its response before the pipe in her mouth choked silence from her. From head to toe, her body strained through the deepening invasion, by which all three men enjoyed the resulting tightness.  
     Kaseem's chuckle built up as he settled his penetrating shaft within her and allowed the man beneath them continued use of her. He looked 'round at Jasim, who'd now given up searching for drinks, and landed his eyes upon Asim, whose heaving chest dictated that he had in fact fallen asleep. "Some of us have wearied, yes, but perhaps if you would join us, Milady—" his laugh overtook his voice once more before he thrust an extra inch forward— "there might be enough pleasure to be had."  
     "Charming offer," came her response, yet they could correctly assume she was not amused by it. "Or perhaps the wine has gone to their heads!" She nodded to the Gems behind her, then took a step into the light. "Come, let us rouse these two and renew spirits," she said as Ruby and Aquamarine came gently to her sides. The boy stepped down into the pit and pulled himself to sit beside Jasim, who opened his eyes to the pleasure of tiny hands upon his wide leg and a curious gaze guiding their motion. The girl slipped her form down the edge where she'd stood and came to rest her provocative figure upon Asim's lap. She leaned forward and laid fingertips and kisses upon his neck and cheeks, bringing him to wake in an instant.  
     Kaseem and the others felt a slight boost in their lusts, as these younger Gems had now joined their company. Assad—who currently had the pleasure of Peridot's gagging throat—found himself suffocating the girl at times, so pleased was he with his surroundings. The slimy hold on his prick worked its way up to her lips, the shining mucus now dripping down her chin and swaying with the ramming thrusts that came upon her lower half. Nijad, beneath them, was safely clear from this strange threat, yet he was witness to the best of all worlds: Peridot's springing neck and heaving throat forced air in and out with lewd sounds, her breasts trembling as chandeliers as her abdomen tensed from the slightly smoother infiltration of her rectum.  
     The Mistress lowered her tray to Aqua, handing over a cup as the girl took it and brought it between her lips and her man. Her smile was wildly temptuous, and his joy returned as he pet the smooth hair that flowed over her back. She tilted the drink towards him, and he sipped it nicely, but she teased it back before he was done. Her eyes were innocent, her mind playful, as she scooched closer to his center and pulled the cup aside, holding it steadily level in her hand while she flirted with his lips. The two continued thus as her Mistress delivered a cup to Ruby's client, watching him guzzle half of it through loud slurps before wrapping his fingers behind the boy's neck and admiring the seeming delicateness of him.  
     "Remember, gentlemen," her voice came to them as she descended into the pit to offer the remaining goblets to those in their midst, "Peridot is your charge. It is not even the midnight hour, and you have begun to fade." Assad quickly downed his beverage, dribbling red streams through his beard and over the girl while his other hand cupped the back of her head and thrust himself past her pharynx as his heated excitement flooded her stressed gullet in several bursts. He gasped over her, then belched as he tossed the cup aside to a cushion and pleasantly watched as Peridot's throat vomited him out, his donation peeling over her teeth and lips as one congealed mess.  
     "Brother, you've outdone yourself!" Jasim cried joyously, still fondling the soft skin beside him. "I should like to take your place, for that hole now looks sufficiently lubricated for me," he finished with a heartier laugh.  
     "Rise, then," Assad said, approaching him with a hand in offered help. His member slunk between his thighs, dripping in slime and coated in sheen. "I shall take her ass from Kaseem if he does not finish soon." He lifted his comrade, who was reluctant at first to loose his grip upon Ruby.  
     "Now then," Kaseem uttered after a quick sip from his cup, his thumb firmly pressing the girl's tailbone. "Let me loosen her up a bit more, and perhaps two of us can fill her here, hmm?" His smile grew wide, and his friend's as well, as Jasim began to feed his meat within her slick mouth. She gagged around it, but refused it not, as her many orifices became nothing more than sleeves for these men.  
     Aqua continued to serve her client, one small slurp at a time, 'til her Mistress finally climbed out from the pit and beckoned her and Ruby to depart. Asim was sad to see her go, yet with cup in hand he soon replaced her delights with budding fancies that came to his weak mind. If the men were now rejuvenated, and Peridot survived 'til morning, the night would be a complete success. What mattered most was that these remained inside, remained occupied—remained distracted.  
  
     The three took up quarters for the rest of the night. If any issue arose, her guards would come to her, but for now she had gone on long enough without sleep, and she would need full cognizance for the next day. Her servants took naps in rounds, and her Gems would rest whenever they needed, save of course those in the cellar. If she'd seen fit to continue their training through the night, they would have to deal with the fact. Sensing her reaction would wane overnight, she'd renewed Diamond's treatment before she left them alone; for the others, however, this was a time to recuperate.  
     Their regimen would become a daily one. With the official opening of the business, their services may be required in some form or other from noon to midnight, and so routine would soon dictate their lives. Only the choicest Gems—those whose popularity became the fame of the Harem—might entertain a different schedule, one guided by demand. But this, of course, was hypothetical at best, for none but a few men knew of this oasis, and their purpose was only to serve the business, to prepare it and see that it thrives. And should any of them step out of line, their usefulness will have run its course.  
     And so, twilight arose with the moon well past its zenith, and as first light broke golden haze on the eastern horizon, guards came to call upon their Lady. A sole rattle of her door's handle was all that was needed to not draw suspicion to the facts. In time, the door opened and she came out to them in the hallway. A glimpse aside revealed the frozen image of three men in a train facing a fourth, the fifth beside them, and a pair of white legs rising from the clouds and bowing outward, feet curling and toes cringing to at least show livelihood, if not full consciousness.  
     The Mistress abruptly brought her sights straight ahead upon the entrance to the cave, and she'd soon passed to the canopy and beyond the archway. Several of her guards awaited her there, come down from the outer ridges to carry out her dark business. They stood by the stables, surrounding the bloodied remains of the unfortunate soul, some of them discussing the smell that was beginning to rise with the heat, others shaking their heads in disgust of the caged creature who was backed into her corner, threatened awake by the presence of so many. With the arrival of her Mistress, all turned to her attention.  
     "Now, now, I'm sure you've all seen a corpse before," she began with humor in her words as they parted to allow her the sight. As the odor hit her, she lifted her veil to cover her nose, then crouched beside to gather a better look at the damage. The dark-skinned girl bolted forward with a sudden cry and a clang of her chains as she outstretched an arm partway through the bars, swiping sharply at the woman's robes. The Mistress backed away just enough, but turned her gaze steadily to the girl, watching the futile attempts to clutch hold of her enemy. "I can't imagine your complaint," she spoke over the clatter of metal, dodging other attacks that tried to reach her. "You've done well, Jet."  
     The powerful beast slowly retracted her form in defeat, though her eyes remained stained with bloodlust as they darted from Mistress to man. In her feeble mind, she had only connected her prey with She who claimed her life. It made sense that She sent him to her—for whatever reason—but Jet had bested them both, cut him down as a sign of what she could do to Her, what she _would_ do to Her, if given the chance.  
     "The evidence," she started, inspecting the body and noting the fetal curl of his figure, the thick discharge of congealed claret upon the sand beneath his center. Gnats began to soar and spiral about him, coming out from the wound they had claimed overnight. "Where has it gone?"  
     She of course was referring to his severed masculinity, which, though she could not see clearly the damaged flesh behind his robes, she knew must be the only explanation for his quick demise. If her guards had collected it, they could easily see that it were erased with the body. However, if it had been misplaced, its reappearance could occur at a most inopportune moment. And so to her discouragement, the foremost guard replied, "There's no sign of it, Milady. We presumed it was, perhaps, eaten."  
     " _Presumed_ is not enough," she retorted, pulling herself upright as they each lowered their heads before her. "Has no one been watching her since it happened?" she asked, peeved to see none step up. She sighed as she glanced up at the brightening sky. "Saddle a camel," she told them, and two immediately backed away to do so. "And retrieve his gear," she commanded, turning 'round to face the mens' camp. "Take some of their rations, some of their coin. Secure them to him, and he upon the mount." Three more went off to obey as she walked over towards the middle of the valley. She lowered her veil, removed a glove, then licked a finger and held it high for a moment. The remaining guards stood watching her.  
     "Lead him northwest," she told them at last. "Towards the sea. Into it, if you must. I want no trace of him, understood?" They nodded and one was vocal. "Cover your tracks. We will not have a storm for some time, and we cannot risk the discovery." She turned back to see that they were now hauling the corpse over to the dromedary, nearly ready to carry out her final orders.  
     "Still no sign of it?" she asked those heaving the dead weight upon the animal's hump.  
     They paused, breathing strongly. "No, Milady," one answered to her, then continued balancing the body.  
     "You two," she called, pointing to her captain and one beside. "Turn over the kennel," she said, striking them with sudden fear of the implication of such a command. "Comb the area for blood, see to it that none remains visible." One placed a boot upon the enclosure, the other followed suit, and the both of them displaced the box, grinding its edge through the sand before upturning it and rolling its surprised contents along in a feverish attempt to remain upright. Once more they pushed it, against clawing motions of hands within, and before long its bottom wall became its top. The girl within hustled and darted side to side, rattling her chains and pushing her force against the grids of iron.  
     Where the cage once lay, a soldier called out the discovery of one gut-curdling object, and his Mistress approached with content in her gaze. Some grains of sand, stained red, had coated the buried item. As she knelt to brush her gloved fingers over it and lift it from its hidden crevice, the silver bean rolled and nestled into her palm, a violet string clinging to it and crimson gelatin peeling off of it. She rose to her feet, knowingly, and commended the guard on its unearthing. "Search for the others," she commanded.  
     "We must be certain before we assume they've been destroyed already. Though I wouldn't put it past this one," she uttered as she approached Jet again and glared strongly upon the girl, still uneasy in her disrupted cell. "Perhaps it is time we brought her inside," she said after a long moment of reflection. "Release her," she added in a whisper.  
     "Milady?!" her captain responded, hoping her words had not been misheard.  
     She turned her confident eyes to meet his worried ones. Her fingers curled inward 'til they pressed tightly against the bean, holding it firmly in place while she continued to focus her effort upon it. A gentle _splat_ answered him as a thin, pink liquid started to spill around the sides of her glove. He gulped, then bowed his neck before looking to the others under his command, each standing alert with some at either side of the cage. At long last, he leaned to pull a metal crow from within his boot and quickly thrust its tapered end beneath a joint in one of the corners of Jet's pen and began to pry it loose. The cry of creaking metal set all on edge, save the Mistress, ever prepared for the unfolding events.  
     As the bracket gave way, the captain stepped around to the other side and repeated the process. Jet's chest heaved as she sat in wait. She knew full well what was going on, though neither she nor any guards could guess the reasoning for it. If her Mistress sought death, who was she to argue? Her brow was kept furrowed, almost shielding the glare that she was giving her Owner. Both remained still, focusing solely upon the other, as the metal corner finally bent free of its seal. The captain thrust his bar down into the opening between the top wall and the front—careful to keep his hands from being too near the creature, though he could not tell that she held no interest in him.  
  
     The Amazon's lip quivered, her fangs baring as a rumble in her throat built up into a warcry. She lunged forward in a preemptive strike, her strong hands landing against the wall before the captain had finished prying it out. He stumbled away in surprise, and in as much an instant, the slave's feet replaced her hands as the metal grid pressed flat to the ground beneath her weight.  
     All around, guards jumped and reached for their weapons, but the seconds passed slowly for their Mistress, on whom Jet's focus was ever kept. She uncurled her spine and sprinted her growing height towards her target, an unmoving spire who might have been caught off guard. As links stretched and chains became taut, hands reached their furthest distance with powerful legs driving through the air to push her neck out in a direct line for the woman's jugular.  
     The sudden high-pitched ring of metal being drawn cut through the girl's scream—a call which might have echoed all the way to the depths of the valley where busier minds resided. The sting of contact broke chains that freed hands to stretch higher than ever before. But the burning eyes of that dark face would falter in sudden realization that her teeth would never sink into their mark. For, the blade which sliced through her bounds had continued its long arch to meet the dense muscle of her side, just above the hip; and the swipe dug deeper into her flesh, smoothly dividing internal organs that here were only protected by thick sinews. The forward motion of her pounce became diverted by this aptly timed strike, as the girl's airborne figure was pushed aside by the sideward force of this arm's extension, tampered metal piercing almost as deep as her navel, slicing through her as an ax splitting wood. And all the while, the bold eyes of her Mistress remained, locked upon those failing pupils as her sword slipped free and the bloody carcass slumped to the ground beside her.  
     Guards looked on, some slowly returning to their duties, as the woman wiped either side of her blade upon her cloak, then sheathed it once again. From her waist, she lifted out a small vial—Elixir Vitae—and unstopped it. She knelt and clutched the dying slave's jaw in one hand, pouring its contents into her sputtering gullet with the other, and she remained by her side until her breathing began to regulate itself. She carried her eyes up towards her captain, and met his astonished glare with her ever-present calm. "Bring her to the dungeon," she told him, pulling herself upright once more. "Bind her there before she regains her strength."  
     "Understood, Milady."  
     She approached him and leaned to his ear. "And do consider yourself privileged," she whispered, pressing a hand to his crotch. His face showed little response, though sweat perhaps came to his brow beneath the brim of his dark turban. She peered into his trembling eyes. "I discarded these a long time ago. I expected some semblance of their return, hmm?" She nodded to him.  
     He answered with a resolved blink and nod. "Yes, Ma'am. It won't happen again."  
     She smiled pleasantly, retracting her hand slowly before leaving his presence to check up on the others about.  
  
     Just as the vibrant colors of the morning faded and Jet's unconscious body was being carried through the cave, the Mistress remained outside a moment to see her soldiers off. She followed them up to the ridge and watched the two set off on their way: one leading the camel and its precious cargo by the reins, the other trailing behind and sweeping the sand with a dried branch of palm. It would be at least another day until their return, which would prove further use in favor of her plan. For now, though, time was growing short, and the sooner they were out of sight, the better she could feel regarding Jahi's other men.  
     After they had crossed over a few dunes, the Mistress made her way into the depths of the dungeon, where many of the Gems still slept. She was pleased to see her captain and another guard binding new chains upon the Amazon's shackles, stringing their links through two loops in the walls so that the combination of their distance and the girl's force would keep her wrists safely apart and her body out of harm's reach. Her ankles had been bound closer together, and at the moment, her weakened form slouched over her knees, with her stretched arms holding up her torso as full breasts hung before her and hair fell about her face. The bit in her mouth had been replaced as well, for she had yet to reawaken from her healing slumber.  
     The wound at her side had mended slightly, still deep red and gory where skin had been torn apart, but the bleeding had noticeably stopped. Soon, it would appear as though no harm had even been dealt, and it would probably feel as equally normal; the memory, however, would still remain, and perhaps, if anything, that would feed into this one's training.  
     An expensive ordeal, it had proven, but given the circumstance, the Mistress could not risk any evidence being turned up in the case of the man's demise. She knew not how things might unfold, but keeping Jet out of their reach for the time being seemed an appropriate move. If she had indeed consumed the other pieces, it would be known for certain in a few days' time. With her guards double-checking their work, she crouched before Jet and reached her hands to the girl's center, loosening the cloth from her crotch and pulling it free from its crease between her legs. As she dragged it aside, a curious blot shimmered upon its inner surface in the flickering light.  
     She lifted it up for a closer inspection. Spots of it had a reddish hue, but much of it was colorless, and all of it was rank with a foul, slightly familiar, odor. She laid the material aside while she reached a gloved hand properly beneath Jet's center. Her fingers parted meaty labia as another found its way uninhibitedly deeper within 'til it met something strangely solid. It felt as a bone, before her finger squeezed beside its edge. She slipped her thumb in and met the object's other side, then steadily peeled the blockage outward.  
     The dark girl's face cringed involuntarily as her lower half expelled its secret from between her legs. And as her Mistress finally freed it from her moist lips and pulled it into the light, the guards were the first to stumble in their reaction to its appearance. The rigid, lilac stump had many likenesses of a thumb at first, but its nature became all too real the longer one's eyes were laid upon it. It was thick and stocky and surely was bound in skin, yet it never had its place upon a hand—well, in the sense of attachment, at least. It had shortened some since its detachment from Ma'mun, even as it wasn't the entire length to begin with, but now it was almost equal in width and length.  
     A disturbed smirk crossed the woman's lips as she held the object between her fingers, her eyes admitting surprise up to her guards above. Her captain, at last, could not stomach the discovery, and the splattering discharge from his throat was the only response he could give as he turned to lean upon the wall, the lines of acid dripping down the stone as the sooner spillage piled between his boots. His Mistress simply rolled her eyes to that, still considerably perplexed by this revelation.


	13. Convenient Domestication

     Vocal chords resounded their groans into the dank surroundings as a weary-eyed slave rolled her drooping neck and finally peeled her eyelids back. Her senses were slowly returning, and first it was the strong scent of retched bile that brought her to awareness. The air was dense, warm yet tolerable, much cooler than out-of-doors had been. Still, the feel of the dungeon was apparent to her even before she lifted her head. And that she did in a tantrum that tugged her wrists upon their chains and straightened the lines of her shoulders perpendicular with her spine, her chin rising to scream around the fresh piece of wood lodged against the joint of her jaw. Her lips were stretched up to it, ever baring her pointed razors.  
     In the whipping motions of her neck, beyond bounding strands of her filthy hair, she caught the sights of many other slaves, several of them peering over with looks of utter concern, the youngest of them bawling tears and shrieks and howls that competed with this one's wrath. And then, her searching eyes froze upon a solid figure, and her thrashing ceased, and her anger twisted into a crazed smile as her throat would seem to hesitate a sound of amusement.  
     Near the door stood her Adversary—still, silent, reserved—much as she had appeared the last time Jet had her sights laid upon her. A threat? Hardly. The snarl of her upper lip feigned distaste as she glared upon her elder, and she slowly hunched her figure once more, her head bowing in a sense, though her eyes kept their sharp stare across the dark room. The exchange between the two carried on for a long moment; no words were spoken, neither throaty growls nor breathy sighs; simply a contest of wit, thoughts of acceptance, power rearranged.  
     Sapphire's cries turned to slight whimpers as silence reclaimed the dungeon, and the uneasiness began to fade as Jet settled into the fact of her position. Her body was strangely tired, as though she had slept for too long. No doubt, her circulatory system was still balancing itself out, replacing the blood she had lost within the hour. She'd not yet regained her full strength, though it would take more than that to free her from this arrangement, and in days to come she would learn that first-hand. For now, however, she steadied her breathing and collected herself before her Mistress—resting, as it were, from her brief outburst which had stolen away much of her energy.  
  
     The morning was well upon the oasis, and the men had finally begun to give in to sleep. Assad alone remained awake—and the girl as well, though the level of her consciousness had fluctuated throughout the passing hours and was indeed questionable now. The bodies of his comrades lay naked—partly or wholly—and slumped 'round the disc of marble upon their cushions as snores echoed into the space above them. The cloud had settled low beneath their feet, and the candles had all but burned out, their magick waning as the contrast of daylight glowing upon the canopy filtered in through the doorway beyond their circle.  
     The foul stench of man's seed—used and stale, drying into stained remnants upon rock and cloth and skin—filled Assad's nostrils as he knelt upon the table and pulled the mess of Peridot's body to slap against his undying erection. Four fingers clutched her backside lightly while a strong thumb hooked upward into her anus and commanded her weight to spring to and fro before him.  
     All semblance of the girl's previous tightness had been wiped as a past dream. The entrance to her rectum now smoothly rolled from her tailbone as mere as the curtain of slime which encompassed it. Far from his penetrating digit, deeper regions of her were equally greased, digesting the men's donations and trading them off with her own rotten secretions. Her birth canal, too, had been forced wide to its very end, eased by the pleasure it'd given her, but now even that hole seemed as fluid as a cup of wine, and even as intoxicating. Her uterus constantly oozed particles of semen collected throughout the night, and though Assad was not of sufficient size to reach that plush, inner portal, there was enough of it to be continually driven out from her lips as he rolled and slipped through the weak muscles of her loins.  
     Even her jawbone had been stretched to take Jasim, the thickest of them, and oft it was her mouth which would not close as her tongue seemed to produce precum in response to every subsequent ejaculation which landed beyond her tonsils. The pungent flavor was all she could taste for many hours, and indeed the swimming sensation was still present within her throat. Her nasal cavity had even become inundated by the foreign mucus, when Asim had lost a bet that he could fit the girl's nostril around the head of his shaft; instead, he had settled with leaving a subtle reminder of his failed attempt before submitting to Kaseem's reward for the bargain. (Payment had not been serious enough to altogether remove focus from Peridot, but it certainly opened the realm of possibility for these men's nightly gatherings.)  
     Her clothes, as beautifully composed as they were, had been discarded before midnight, the lightly stained material now hidden under one of the slumbering bodies around. Every inch of her skin was, by now, coated in the yellowing paste. Beneath, drips strung low from her softened nipples and from her chin, from points formed by her ribcage and portions of her abdomen that had bloated slightly from overuse. Her pubic nest was drenched flat with glue that had become trapped in it, while the mound just beyond it constantly spilled over with the froth being worked up within.  
     Their motions were as mindless for her as they were idle for him, and it was only a matter of time before he'd collapse like the others. She'd bested them all early on, and they certainly wouldn't have gotten anywhere without the drugs. But they'd all been fooled. The peculiar brew had done its part to convince the men of their ability, while the girl herself was ushered into the appropriate state of mind. This was her place; this was Peridot's paradise.  
  
     Within the dungeon, several other Gems awaited realizations of their purposes. Not least of all was Diamond, who had gotten as little rest as Peridot, though she would envy the alternate circumstance. There was no concept of time in the space so distanced from daylight, and less so for Diamond's partial mind. She had gazed longingly at all of the boys, had fabricated joinings with each of them and even all of them. They had abused her, for a voice in her head repeatedly reminded her of her shortcomings. Each of them teased her, pleasured themselves but left her unfulfilled. And she relished it.  
     Now began her second day of this punishment. Sight had become a blur for her, with her mind unable to distinguish between actual events and those dreams, aided by her lack of stimulation. Yet if this treatment should continue indefinitely, it was possible that one of two extremes would break her mind entirely: that either she would enter a perpetual dream-state and find herself unable to experience the pleasure she sought so endlessly—even if it should be directly given—or that she would learn to manufacture the feeling, purely brought on by her mind with no more need for the physical. If either should happen, the former case would, perhaps obviously, be the better scenario; for, if the latter took place, the girl would serve as much use as Jahi's giraffe, and probably become as likely an attraction.  
     She imagined herself now being unlocked from her bindings, even as she and the others were watching Amber as the recipient of such attention. He might have been the first among these to accept his duty, but if he had witnessed what Peridot had been reduced to in the night, he would only see half of what was expected of him. Instead, his Mistress was only preparing him for the physical, to take pleasure and pride in it, to find solace and refuge in it when other treatment would surely threaten to shred his sense of dignity.  
     Unshackling his hands and feet, the woman commanded the deferential boy upon the table. The glass pillar still remained there, and he looked upon it as a monument to his accomplishment. His young eyes could scarcely believe such a magnificent piece of craftsmanship had penetrated him; its rigidity was ever its greatest hindrance, but he was more surprised now by its size, its girth. As he placed his hands atop the wood, he compared their width to the gleaming pole, and the light in his eyes began to wonder if a man existed who could wield its equal. Two of his fingers put his own prick to shame, and here this masterful weapon stood much thicker than his fist and ominously tall enough to match it.  
     Amber pushed his weight onto the surface and his gut pressed against the edge as he bent a knee to clamber up, his eyes ever locked on some part of that towering shaft. Meanwhile, his Mistress had moved along to free Emerald. She told him to do the same, before bringing her attention upon the potion crate; she had remembered this time the boy's frailty, and lifted again the blue jar from its hold. The Arabian came to the opposing end of the table, cautiously, though he'd at least known enough to listen to her. He sat his bare backside upon the wood and slowly pulled his ankles up to meet him, yet remained in that spot, looking about as a dumbfounded mule.  
     In many ways, these two boys were strong contrasts of each other. From their physical appearances to their characters, even the rounder child assumed a different scene than the older one had yet come to grasp. Yes, he'd enjoyed making use of the smaller one's soft rump the day before, but it was not something he would choose by his own devices. He was simply not as sexually minded, until such purpose was blatantly obvious; and then, it was not his way to give in to those feelings. But even as Amber sat upon an ankle and passed his eyes finally from admiring the transparent toy to the woman behind him—collecting a sample of gelatin upon her glove—he remembered their first pairing. The shy teenager had not a forceful bone in his body, and if Amber's anus had righted itself overnight, the eager boy imagined he would soon feel the bliss of a slow fuck.  
     But their Mistress hardly had as much in her mind as she stepped around to meet Emerald's attention. Her black finger glistened in the lamplight, and the faint hue of it told him what it was. The woman had forced it upon Diamond, and—as far as this boy was concerned—her mind had become as soft as the gel responsible. Needless to say, he feared her intentions before she could speak a word to him. She, of course, smiled to watch his reaction, his constant focus upon her upheld forefinger, the tenseness of his neck and shoulders, as if he could not stand to get any nearer to it. Yet, as surely as his pursed lips were not her target, he would perhaps appreciate the application.  
     "My dear boy—" her gentle voice cooed into the moist air— "you have yet to learn pleasure as this young child has seen," she began, bringing out her other three fingers in a motion towards Amber beyond, "but unless you expect I shall impale your sexhole upon my arm—" she said as her other hand directed his attention from fingertip to shoulder— "and put you on display for all your equals to see, then you should not fear your master." At this, Emerald gulped to rethink his position. She softened her gaze as she peered at him, then continued calmly, "For, there are some who feed upon fear," she said, considering the new arrival to the room, but also those who would be like her, "and the slightest show of it on your part would be the greatest mistake you could make for yourself. Fear is a powerful means to control," she nodded. "You must empty yourself of it.  
     "Replace it with trust," she said, turning to deliver her message to all. "Not of your masters, whomever they may be. Trust your Trainer, and she alone." She approached the Egyptian in her dream-state. "Fail to do so and this is what awaits you: a one-track mind that will drive you to insanity." Her Mistress stood just before her, looking down her blushing, steaming skin, and dared to cup three fingers beneath her gaping crotch. The heat of the young girl's loins was immense, and the constant presence of fluids almost seemed to form condensation upon her gloved hand. If Diamond had the slightest bit of awareness, she might have begun to dry-hump the air in any attempt to gain external touch; yet, she could no more feel the woman's presence as cling to her words.  
     She walked back to meet Emerald, who was curious now as to what she had planned for he and Amber. "Part your legs, my boy," she told him as she brandished her finger before him once more. He obeyed, and his flaccid shaft fell down to cover his anus. With that humid glove she'd retrieved from the girl, she gathered his dark package in it, and his eyes closed with the sensation it'd given him. Finally, her glittering finger met its mark. The cold upon the boy's skin quickly turned to heat, and she rubbed side to side across the dimple in his flesh before twisting her fingertip and rotating it 'round in delicate motions that gently pressed into his wrinkles. He would have been pleased if this was all she wanted to treat him to, but the gloopy substance was more than a simple lubricant. By the time the color had faded, he could not be sure that she was still touching him there, so worked the chemical upon his fleshy ring.  
     Her intention was only to numb the entrance, to control his defensive urges and carry his focus this time from the outward pressure to the inward pleasure. And so, she did not penetrate him, though the growth in his member might have dictated otherwise. Emerald reclined his form a little, his chest taking in stronger breaths as the gentle hose between his legs began to inflate and lift its own weight in a slight arch over the woman's wrist. His thoughts were perhaps most responsible for this arousal; he'd watched that hand pass beneath Diamond, and now it was touching him. That, to him, was a cordial reminder of her tightness upon his rail, when it was _she_ who abused him.  
     The memory was fresh enough to continue his pleasure even as he reopened his eyes to witness his Mistress pull away from him, his scrotum resting once more against his body. She returned to the black trunk and raised its lid, pausing a moment to read more thoroughly the note Mikhail had written. There was a substance which he'd formulated and supplied to her for further testing. She located the bottle among the wares and lifted it to eye-level. A brush sat within the clear liquid, attached to the stopper above. As she rotated the container, she read the label which had peeled away up to a point:  
  
_Con_  
_Dom_  
  
     He'd called it a quick-setting formula, and directed a thin, even coating upon the penis. Ordinarily, she liked to leave dosages to her own judgment, but as this concoction was new to her, this trial run would at least have to abide by Mikhail's orders. She wriggled the top free and drew out the brush shining with the slimy substance, while she stepped before Emerald again. The Arabian had thickened slightly as he'd remained focused on his thoughts, and his Mistress might have raised an eyebrow to the fact as her hands came down to paint the strange solution along his length. It instantly made his dark snake glow in the ambience, and the boy answered the sudden sensation with a long contraction that fed more blood deeper into his spongy organ.  
     Several dips later, he was propped upon a finger as she streaked a layer along the underside as well. These gentle teases had worked him stiffer so that bringing her finger away left his member levitating and bounding while she brought a final coating across his slit, barely visible where his foreskin started to peel back. The full hand-length of his shaft now glistened evenly as the woman remembered Amber.  
     This one waited patiently at his end of the table, still fantasizing about the glass phallus, it seemed. She noticed his intriguing gaze, and spoke up to his delight, "Later, my dear. For now, you must help me with Emerald." His eyes sparked and looked up at her as she unfolded his legs and revealed his boyhood to her. "Oh, yes," she continued, nudging a hand against the soft flesh that appeared curiously insignificant. "We must show him what a joy it can be to give his body to another. And who among us knows that better than you, my sweet?" She smiled and began to dabble the moist brush upon his weak prick, rolling it side to side depending on where she pressed against it.  
     It was true. He'd suffered constant pleasure in being used, stretched, stuffed and raped. His body had enjoyed it, and he could almost not help the physical reactions that had ensued. But how was he to help his Mistress? Did she expect him to dig about in the other boy's rear, bury toys within until his fragile body could hold something so massive as that clear cock beside them? He'd rather their positions flipped, if that were the case.  
     "Over," she said when she had finished, then moved her hand in a spiral fashion. "Hands and knees," she clarified, and the boy began to pull himself into that position. She saw him turn towards the other, but stopped him in a word. "Aht, face out," and she tapped the table's edge and pointed in the direction she'd stood before him. A gentle clank came as she lowered the jar to its place before closing the chest once more. Finally, she reached into the box containing the trays of colored objects and pulled out another of the double-long, purple ones. The other still sat spoiled upon the ground. If they were all strewn about the floor by the end of these sessions, she would feel a sort of accomplishment. However, she'd presently barely made a dent in the plethora of cylinders and spheres at her fingertips.  
     She approached Emerald again as Amber had settled into position, baring his beautifully plump backside with the shadow of his dangling package beneath. The darker boy in front of her still held onto some arousal, as clearly measurable between his legs, but he was awakened from his thoughts. Perhaps he was now contemplating this bondage wrapped around his lengthy tool. It was not particularly restrictive, though as he had watched it, the initial sheen had faded and it had become slightly translucent. His Mistress was amazed by this as well, though it did not show upon her face as obviously. Still clutching the vibrant tube, she commanded him up also. She watched as he pushed himself upon his palms and feet, his shaft standing full into the air before he brought a knee down and gently rotated over. He, too, she needed to correct; it seemed these boys were properly expecting which side of them she preferred to see, but for this exercise at least, she'd wanted their best bits facing each other.  
  
     As Emerald moved his legs awkwardly about, bumping Amber's several times as they both backed closer by order of their Mistress, she leaned over the side and gripped the nearest cheek of the younger boy. She spread it from his valley and brought the rounded end of the rubber toy finally up against the targeted depression of his flesh. After rolling it to and fro, Amber quickly took to its efforts and relaxed himself for it. The bright end slipped inward beneath his tailbone and continued along with the woman's steady feeding.  
     She then lifted the sinking weight of its other end—two-thirds of its remaining length—and prodded the older boy's asshole with it. For him, a shadow of the pressure was known, but he could no more control those muscles enough to bar its entry than deliberately loosen them to welcome it in. This proved no matter for his Mistress, however, for she knew his pleasure would not come so soon. Rather, the deeper she penetrated him, the more likely he would feel every movement following. And therein was the point: that his body would make its natural response, and that his mind would become aware of it.  
     With another third of it gone within the other, she laid each of her hands upon the small of their backs as she commanded them closer. Amber was of course the more eager to obey, his relaxed body engulfing the colored snake almost too quickly to leave any for Emerald's tighter rectum. "Squeeze, my dear," she told the younger, for he was at least capable of controlling himself there. As he did, the resistance pushed the other end into the older boy, rolling his sphincter inward as their ass cheeks finally grazed one another's. Amber sighed at this pleasure, while Emerald hesitated to be so intimate already.  
     Between them, a fraction of the dildo's length remained visible amidst the tops of their cracks, but their Mistress egged them on to push it deeper, into whomever's hole could accept it. Emerald, having the years and physique over the Palestinian, turned out to have slightly greater room to spare, though the touch of its tip against his inner wall made his spine jolt. He would shit it out if the woman allowed him the pleasure, yet instead the boy resolved himself through the contraction, and his body aided in forcing the remaining inch through Amber's clenched hole as their sweat-glistened skin began to meld.  
     "Hold," she commanded them as she raised her hands from the two and stood beside them in pleasant witness to their abilities. "I want you both to imagine this is your master. He is _deeply_ inside of you. You can feel his weight pressing behind you. But he wants you to do the work. After all, he's a paying customer, and it's your job to make him happy. Don't you want to make him happy?" She smiled, weakening her eyes in wait of a response. "Amber? Can you make him happy?" The golden boy closed his eyes and bent his knees as he pressed against his "master."  
     "Emerald?" The chocolate-skinned boy grunted lightly, his brow trembling as he considered the position he was in. He did not want to know what would happen if he refused his "master," and so his legs answered Amber's pressure with their own. Amber seesawed back, pulling on the heated tube slightly and dragging part of it free from Emerald before he bounded it back within.  
     And so it began: A gentle clench here, an uncontrollable contraction there, a fuller release of the purple pipe from one's moist hole, a grinding thrust of it past the other's pulsing anal-ring. Their Mistress strolled about the perimeter as the boys continued bucking against each other. Their throats resonated sounds of forced pleasure, caught breath and exploding sighs. Their rears slapped skin that had begun to coat with perspiration, the folds of their legs spilling over with occasional drops of inner juices. And beneath, two rods flung and swayed, covered in a whitish film that seemed only an extra layer of skin for each of their erect shafts.  
     At the other side of the table, the woman leaned closer to inspect Emerald's boyhood; he was easily twice the length of the other, and so more visible in that regard. The curious liquid she had brushed upon him had congealed into a sleeve that perfectly fit the boy's member. As their hips shook and curled, the appendage stiffened and slapped against his stomach, and relaxed and hung between his thighs. Amber was leading their rhythm against the cramps that tightened the Arabian's frame. Their Mistress presumed he was still a long way off from being used to the feel of something against his inner walls, but she hoped these muscle spasms would not continue, or else she feared there would be a true mess on their hands.  
     Amber suddenly slowed his force, and Emerald found more pressure meeting his body while the younger clenched and rode through his first climax. The woman peered now under him, and noticed the white bubbling at the end of his prick, caught in the sleeve that had wrapped him tightly. It seemed to become a part of it now, for in the shadow it was the brightest spot beneath him, suspended by the solid film. The result was wonderful, and she began to consider future applications of this substance, especially if other boys would be added to her supply. To think, Mikhail had invented an alternative to castration. If only Mercury had not suffered the knife before they'd met; she had been curious to see what was responsible for such monstrous growth.  
     She could use it as a means to humiliate, without any true permanent effects. For a man was not a man if he could not produce semen; and a slave was not trained if he could spill his. But to bind the mess that would be spilt, she found both cute and productive. For her Companions, it would be a measure of their enjoyment without directly disgracing their masters. But she began to wonder if the material would hold up under pressure, particularly if one was asked to penetrate another. She resolved to volunteer some of the men towards such a noble cause, though how and when remained to be settled.  
     The younger boy swiveled his waist about as he returned from his high, the gentle dab of his deposit forming a round end at the point of his soft prick. The weak movements of his rump helped continue the pleasure without overpowering his sensitivity, and soon his steadied breath led him to pound away as strongly as before. Emerald jumped forward at this, but a sweet reminder coming from his Mistress relaxed some of this immediate tension. "Push back, my dear. If you want it to feel good, you must work at it. Amber has not been spent so easily, and you are giving up before matching his pleasure? Tsk, that will not do in my Harem."  
     He frowned slightly, but did as she told him, pushing his weight back and mashing against the smaller boy's fleshy rear, the pipe between them scrunching into his rectum and bending to flex along his inner wall. This caused a jolt to ride through his penis, and a sudden gasp fell from his lips before Amber pulled away and took some of the purple length with him. His insides tightened as it was tugged out from him, and it drove his bowels to squeeze and discharge as much of the penetration as it could.  
     The object was an inch from breaking free when Amber pressed his hips down on it again, feeding excess length at first within his own anus, then arching the remainder into an upward curve that waited for Emerald's contraction to settle before the rubber force dug into him in one quick release. The older boy's brow quivered, but he pushed down to meet Amber's ass once more as another sudden spasm found his hardened shaft. His mind was now confused, for the tension in his gut was familiar—and unpleasant. There was a feeling of fullness within him that gave him a need which he knew he must suppress, but strangely he was also finding himself aroused by it.  
     "Come now, you two. Work together!" their Mistress encouraged as she stepped around the table. "Your master is counting on you. Do not let him down. Come," she said, stopping beside them and receiving a quick nod of acknowledgment from Emerald, who was breathing heavily now just to hold onto his composure. "Build up a rhythm: Back and forth, in and out. Feel that movement, let it slide." As she said this, Amber took on the task, and Emerald's thin frame answered in mirrored reply. As one pulled away, so did the other, and the colorful extension between them stretched to reveal its slimy, sagging center. As they pressed back over it, it parted their cheeks and tapped their inner depth, keeping their young cocks hard and ready.  
     The Palestinian's body could still hold out, rebuilding his lust from the last time it burned its release, yet Emerald had only just reached that flush of heat across his senses which told him now a new sensation was being worked up. Yes, his gut still cramped beyond the penetration, but now his rectum was sealed off from it, and the pressure in his perineum began to throb with slight escalations of focused stimulation. The dildo slipped in along his greased walls and retracted without complaint, then in again in quick succession, and out before its head found its mark.  
     Amber's breathy sighs and girlish gasps followed the momentum of their pounding actions, while Emerald simply dropped his jaw and exhaled strongly, then took a quick inhale as the heat washed over him. His cock was now aching, its features sharply chiseled within their confines by the amount of blood that engorged his flesh. His weary eyes passed down beneath his body, his prick bounding up and down while it eclipsed the younger's light brown package. He imagined the girl—Diamond—behind him, moaning on the other end of the double-long toy, and that was all it took to lead him over the edge. Precum spilled around his tip before his perineum clenched and reopened, ushering in the explosive force of his pent up seed.  
     A white bead appeared from his slit, and as his hips faltered in their rhythm behind, their Mistress watched beneath him as the tip of the sleeve bulged and pumped with the increasing volume fed through the boy's pleasure. With this orgasm came sperm saved from yesterday's climax, unable to escape until now. It was great enough alone, but was easily doubled after his body had held onto it for so much time, and greater still by virtue of such a means of stimulation. The mixture of fresh and stale clumping beneath him expanded beyond the size of his head, and the intriguing wrapper that held it in stretched to contain it in a convex bump below his glans.  
     But, as the sensation passed, and the heat dissipated from him, his body could no longer put up with the penetrating offense. His gut began to churn, his inner muscles tensed, and he felt coming on a contraction he was neither proud of nor was he able to prevent.


	14. The Cure and the Cause

     Amber continued his grinding motions upon the rubber prick, oblivious to the frozen nature of his darker reflection, and even their Mistress was caught smiling in response to the anally stimulated climax Emerald had just endured. But the older boy's body had suffered more than what was seen, and in keeping with this recent dispersal of tension the pressure in his bowels now returned to the forefront of his mind, and he was finding himself much too relaxed to deny the overwhelming need for its release.  
     It was first made known by the locking of his joints, that their Mistress granted the boy curious attention. Behind, the purple cylinder retracted from his lubricated hole at a steady rate, the fact perhaps masked by pleasured sounds emanating from the smaller being as the end within _him_ began finding its way deeper, surely uninhibited by his stronger lust. But soon there was so great an excess between the two that Amber was remiss to swallow any more; his rhythm was broken, and he leaned forward to relieve the pressure that had begun to jab his insides. As the other end squeezed free, it snapped downward and rode through the Arabian's crack, red wrinkles of his rectum showcasing their stress before rolling inward once more and sealing beyond the boy's sphincter.  
     As the latest contraction ended, the final one was already building within, working to push their infamous product into the last trap of Emerald's pipework. In the moment his hole winked and flexed, their Mistress had come around to awake Amber from his erotic trance and begin to tug his shaky frame away from the other, lowering him upon his hip as the boy regained control to catch himself. His body clenched about the purple tail he now sported as he pulled his legs in beside him, just in time for the first expulsion from the dark male's depths.  
     With amusement erased from her countenance, the woman hurried to the opposite side of the table, Emerald's chest trembling as the first log inched its way out of him, thicker in parts than the dildo—and though it was understandably rougher in texture, it was hardly foreign to him, and so its travel was decidedly smooth. But it would break, not by weight of its size, but by the expected interruption from his Trainer, gripping first an ear in her clutch, then his nearest wrist as she pulled him from his balance and dragged him from the table. He stumbled his palm and then his bruising knees and clawing toes upon the stone floor before a loud _smack_ landed upon his cheek and made him altogether collapse at her feet.  
     He remained there lifeless a moment, weeping as his body clenched and continued once again to hold back the cramping pressure. The woman stood over him, glaring as she awaited any further reactions before berating him for such a crime. "Would you give your dung to your master? Would he thank you for it?! Or would he slit your throat if you treated him thus?" She would allow it, for such behavior was far from becoming of a Gem in her Harem. "Get up," she commanded him.  
     At once, he obeyed, struggling against the cries within his abdomen that almost made him double over in strain. He wrapped an arm before his stomach, resting his fingers upon his side as he lightly comforted himself. He could feel spaces filling, objects rearranging, and soon the same force would return to his anus and dare to part the orifice once more. As she looked upon him, she could gauge his waning focus, so was the stress he was under.  
     Already, the stench of that which sat upon the wood had begun to spread in the thick air. His Mistress looked about the room and soon sprouted an idea. She approached Jet's corner and—being answered with a threatening growl—crouched only to collect the black cloth that lay upon the floor there. The string still hung around the slave's waist, and while that certainly could have been retrieved with her bound as such, the headmistress was in no mood to more directly invade the Amazon's personal space, nor did she find the accessory altogether important. She could, and planned to, just as easily tie a loincloth about the boy's waist.  
     As she commanded Emerald to raise his arms, she knelt beside him and passed the length of linen between his legs and up around his shriveled, prepacked boyhood. A twist of one end, a tuck and a tie, then she passed it through his legs once more and brought it 'round the front to tuck away the remainder. She couldn't care less how presentable it appeared; its functionality was simply to keep in what was sure to come out. And so, she pointed him to a corner—hardly the privacy he would have liked, but worse the fact that whatever he tried to rid his body of would still remain with him.  
     He knew it was expected of him, as his glance met her nod. Yet somehow, it seemed more difficult knowing they were watching, knowing she was waiting. "Well?" she asked across the open space between them. "You've my permission to relieve yourself. Would you disappoint us again?" She added a chuckle. Seeing his look of worry and fear—his eyes trembling on the verge of spilling over with tears, a leg raising and shifting as he dealt with a sudden bout of discomfort—she decided to give him one last chance to answer her call. He watched as she returned to the table and reached a hand over it, then, she brought into view the foul offense he had left there, the filthy condensed mass of it resting upon her glove.  
     "If you won't let it out, perhaps you should put this back in, hmm?" she offered, tossing the brown object lightly forward and watching him as it flew. Emerald's eyes followed the lump as it landed with a slap and a weak bounce before his feet, smaller pieces of it rolling outward as it settled there. His Mistress wiped her glove upon the exterior of her cloak as she uttered, "Decisions, decisions," and chuckled once more over him.  
     He didn't even need to consider the ultimatum. Another cramp seized his gut, and he found it was foolish to hold out any longer. He clutched his belly as the painful spasm passed, then slowly lowered himself to a crouch, hugging his knees as he finally loosened those muscles and pushed the pressure outward. He could feel his body opening for it, but for the longest segment of his contraction nothing came free. His eyes were closed, a tear was shed, and then the dense blockage peeked from his chute and began to force its way out. The boy's jaw dropped and a silent exhale fell as the bulge protruded against the cloth barrier and finally cleared his anus. But its hefty presence stuck with him, and it seemed bigger to him now that it stretched the clothing at his groin.  
     The scent was horrific, building upon the fainter presence that sat visible upon the floor, but it vanished in the moment his breath caught, for another load was already adding to the mess he owned. His body had churned all night with this batch, hurried along this morn by the internal massage he'd been forced to endure. It seemed his intestinal tract could not be swayed to adjust to the curious call of prostitution which the woman had hoped for him.  
     His Mistress watched his trembling knees, his tense fingers, the blush upon his cheeks. The first piece was but an accident, but this, this made him aware of his insolence, serving as his humiliation. Yet as unpleasant as the scene was for Emerald, she knew it relieved him, so even now she considered a proper way to punish him for it. Yet it would not come swift. Indeed, he might even beg for her attention before she'd decide to free him of this growing nightmare.

     "Now then," she said, returning her focus to the other boy she'd all but forgotten in this ordeal. Amber was pleased to catch her sights, even smiling as she approached him once again. As she strode behind him and passed a glance across the room to Emerald groaning in his corner, she pet her cleaner hand upon the boy's lower back, her other trailing to clutch the purple tail and tug it free to the effect of Amber's pleasure. A gloved finger wriggled down to the place of his moist hole and picked at it playfully while she continued to drag the shaft aside. She leaned over the boy's shoulder, curious to see his eyelids shut and even that his boyhood was beginning to rise up between his thighs.  
     Passing her soft gaze over to Emerald a second time, she whispered something into Amber's ear that opened his eyes in reply; or, perhaps it was the simultaneous penetration of her finger that slipped between the fluid walls beneath him. He was certainly pleased either way, while the Arabian looked on, blushing to think his Mistress was talking about him, that this was the reason the younger child was so happy. They couldn't see the sagging weight of what he'd dumped between his legs, but he was sure that's what she was telling the other. After all, his weak mind could focus on nothing else but the source of that putrid odor, collecting along his loins.  
     The cloth hugging his waist seemed to pull tightly against his pelvic bones as the crease that was tucked beneath him wrapped the filthy bulges and kept them pressed to his body. He could ever feel the warm stones grinding along his skin, even as the boy had to shift his stature, parting his legs as he landed his knees upon the floor, winced his curious gaze away from his Mistress, and grappled at his middle once more. This time, the gaseous cramp whined through the air—louder to him than any others, though it was the pain of it that caught in his mind most. Then, as sudden as the embarrassment that flooded his face, Emerald's bowels released a soft brand of hot sludge that filled the spaces between the solid dislodgments and smeared across his skin, upward and downward from his newly angled hole as he rolled forward in equal amounts of shame and relief.  
     His owner could not discern the extent of his dreadful reality at this moment, except by the cringing expression and quivering brow he donned throughout the contraction, but she didn't much care for the mess he was making, nor for the subtle pleasure he was experiencing which would soon be replaced for the sickening realization to his honest mind. She was not speaking of him, though she'd intended to give him as much the effect.  
     Instead, she had all the while been focusing the movements of her finger beside and around the gland that had triggered so much of Amber's bliss thus far. Not once had his boyish prick known the measure of nervous stimulation that awaited direct contact—and never would it, if his Mistress had any say—but still it stiffened and strained to echo the pleasure easily read upon his face. With weak eyes, he watched the boy opposite him. He knew full well what was going through the other's mind, what was passing through his body, but the faces he made were easily misconstrued, and deliberately so within Amber's fantasies.  
     His mouth was wide as his thoughts fixated on the pressure picking away just within his soft hole. The prodding of his Mistress was just the stimulation he needed to accompany the dreamy images projecting before his eyes. Those lewd faces, clenched teeth and blushing cheeks, made it seem as though the dark-skinned boy was riding the edge of desire, and with that tickling sensation sprouting along his taint, Amber felt as though he and the Arabian were joined at the waist, both of them awaiting the supreme build-up of their shared climax.  
     The woman simply looked on from above him. With her finger, she was fully aware of the shape of that bump hidden within his body, how firmly rubbing it and gently poking it would coax him to unsurmountable pleasure. She'd long known of this weakspot in the male anatomy—had often taken advantage of its curious placement in her past life. She was pleased to know this younger child could melt so easily, as though this were the only button _he_ knew about. Yet it was her woe that Emerald was not like him, nor even half as delightful. The more she tried to accustom him to the demands of her soon-to-be business, the more she found his body fighting it, and that simply would not do.  
     Amber could not help but revel in his position. There were no responses she sought from him, no actions that were either proper or objectionable—none that he had learned, at least. He could deny her, fight those advances, and still she would molest him. His job was easy in that sense. Of course, his Mistress knew it was for his own good. In his future, he might indeed beg mercy from his masters, but to what end? None could presume to know their lusts, their kinks, their limits. But a boy presented as a shell, a piece of flesh whose desires or cries carried absolutely no weight? would be a fantasy come to life for such men as that. Abuse would be his master, misuse his trainer, regardless of the pleasure he'd find.  
     A whimper fell from his lips, and the woman's eyes darted towards his center. His appendage there throbbed between its full erection and a softer state. Liquid fraught with tiny pockets of air coursed in forking rivers through the wrinkles of the transparent sock that still gripped him. The whole of it caught light either by the alien covering or the moisture within. But so it was that the precursor to his climax could not be gauged. It was instead the gentle resistance his asshole was beginning to offer which told her what she needed to know, and so she instinctively slipped free her finger from beneath him.  
     His exhale came as a strong gasp, his eyes now bright as a question surfaced at the edge of his mind. Her wet finger traced through his crack, barely grazed the bend of his tailbone, and vanished from his skin as he turned to look back at her. The peak of his drive was leveling off, his prick still rigid though slowly losing the pressure it'd built as his disappointed glance finally met the curious smile in her eyes. She spoke a word to him, but he didn't grasp it. Time was slowed for him, yet with each precious second the sexual fantasy that joined him to Emerald's cock suffered erasure.  
     His clock reset, the woman passed behind him, and the boy whipped around to keep her in view—or at least that shimmering finger. She continued to speak as she curled it around the girth of that familiar glass peg, the rest of her hand following as her forefinger and thumb strained her leather glove against it. Steadily, he began again to catch her words— "it would be too easy. So instead, you shall consider this your means. I'm sure you will not turn down the offer to let this part your buttocks once more, hmm?"  
     The boy nodded idly, watching her palm slide about the shaft. Her other hand came to rest at its base as she pressed firmly down the length. It'd become dry in its wait, though parts of it were stained with crusty excretions and smears or smudges that his gut had placed upon it the day before. She'd give him no lube to ease its passage, for he was hardly as disappointing a creature as the other; she knew, even if his hole had not been primed for use by toy and finger, he would still delight in spreading his cheeks to accept this item of pure challenge. He was eager before, but now he had a flame of lust to feed.  
     "I'll not help you to it," she promised him, merely keeping it steady in its upright glory. "If you should ever please a master thus, your forwardness would be much appreciated." Amber had already begun to shift his weight, strength in his loins raising his backside as his knees came under him. "Come now, rise up," she told him, and watched him balance his feet and finally come to stand upon the table. The cylindrical sculpture was as long as his tibia as he stepped nearer to it and turned to begin to crouch down upon it, small hands gripping his rear and pulling his fat strongly apart, his hungry hole rolling open as he sat his body down.  
     "Good," his Mistress cooed as his skin made contact, first his taint just an inch behind his ballsac, then digging inward even as the firm head continued to settle against its mark. The angle of it was all wrong, but his asshole spread against it all the same. The boy had already learned the art of relaxing that unique muscle, better perhaps than any Gem she might ever train. Surely, he would fit the business as easily as his anal lips were blowing this toy. The dense bulb of its formidable end popped under the upper edge of his ring, curiously pulling the muscle out from his valley even as he tried to grind it further along.  
     His cocklet had been driven to its full size once more, pointing beneath him as the old liquid gathered again in the sock's end. The woman urged him to continue, raising a hand only to straighten his posture as his legs began to ache from holding his weight so awkwardly. If they gave way, he might indeed become impaled by such a solid penetration, though it would be a pleasant end for such a child. He was not so weak, however, and the travel of the object was eased as he righted the pressing angle of his spine.  
     "Very nice," came endearing words from behind as the glass slipped smoothly into his rectum almost fully. His anus clenched and he gave a grunt, his prick bobbing in its reaction. He had taken more of it previously, but now he felt utterly full even as his body flexed around it. His Mistress was certain this was not the end, though he was having his doubts; but she knew how this worked. "Hump your master," she commanded him. "I'll not release you from this duty until your legs sit upon this wood. Come now, Amber. Prove your worth!" With that, the boy's lust enraged, the thought of taking the entire shaft into his short body. His eyes rolled into his head just to imagine it, his tongue falling from his gasping mouth as he began to shit it out.  
     His insides softened a little as he pushed the thick obstacle outward, and then, while he was knowingly still forcing himself inside-out, he released his hands from his cheeks, tightened grasps upon his knees, and pressed himself down onto the rigid pipe 'til he could no longer hold his contraction. As his muscular ring rolled inward again, she'd noticed his body had taken it deeper. Only slightly, but enough to prove the point. The previous day, his ride was more invasive by virtue of the angle of her entry, the arrangement of his gut as he laid upon the table. Now, instead, progress had become a measure of tension: the looser he made himself, the deeper it would be able to go.  
     The boy was not yet aware of this trick, but he desired as much as she had told him and was eager to make it come true. He bounded his weight off of it once again and slid down on it as his insides were fooled as to the direction of its travel. His Mistress smiled to see he had almost taken care of half of the dildo in this way. He was still not as far down as he had received yesterday, but neither could he know when he'd reach such a point, nor did it matter, for his goal was beyond even that. He tried again, but he found that his contractions could not last as long as he hoped, and steadily he barely fell to the line of moisture he'd left before.  
     Internally, Amber's digestive tract remained unharmed. It was simply responding by its elastic nature to encompass that which he tried to force beyond his sphincter. Even so, there was pain he encountered at this point, and his face winced to receive it, and the length of his pleasure shriveled to have his focus stolen. His legs were now sore from holding his own weight up; though he could push himself no lower, he had to keep himself from resting fully upon the blunt end of this penetrating weapon, else he felt the painful cramp would threaten to literally tear through him.  
     Sensing his faltering position, she told the young boy to stand up once more, to release the appendage entirely from between his ass cheeks. He gladly took the offer. His body was feeling suddenly overwhelmed with heat that seemed to escape as the daring thickness slid free from his gut. He couldn't remove it as quickly as he'd expected, however, for in losing his libido his gut had tightened about it, clinging to it instead of allowing its free motion. _Perhaps_ — he thought— _that was the issue._ He could relax his anal opening easily enough, but his intestines—as slick as they had become even while remnants of their slime oozed onto the glass structure—might possibly be controlled by his sense of pleasure.  
     As the magnificent head popped free from his loose hole, coated in lubrication and probably searing hot from its prolonged disappearance, the boy straightened his wobbly legs and quickly felt relief as he turned slightly to face the woman. But she stopped him with a word. "Aht! Down again, lest you insult your master, hmm?" Her smile was pleasant, but she had a point to be made, and as he carried a sigh—to regulate his breath and nothing more—and dropped himself down to take the plunge once more, his Mistress continued her lecture. "If you have a need to stand, and it is within reason that you do so, you are in no position to ask. That would be selfish of you." His gaping hole wrapped around the translucent bump again and easily slid along to its previous depth.  
     "Instead, you must mask your need in the guise of causing him pleasure. He will enjoy the sight of knowing just how deeply you've been penetrated, as well as to recall how it feels to break into you from the start. And you will have relieved your stress enough to continue to endure him, even to attain what he expects from you." The boy's ass managed to squeeze an additional length beyond his hole, but again his focus returned to the pain that met the end as it bumped his depths, and he began to fear he would not be able to fill her demands. The width of the toy spreading him was too grand to usher any pressure towards his prostate, except at the sudden moments when the faux glans rippled in or out of him, and so without direct stimulation on his dangling prick—which he as yet had been kept virgin from—his physical pleasure was out of reach. He would have cried to see the palm-length that still remained to be inserted.  
     "Do not make me remind you that your master is waiting. He would have no patience for your sloth—" she said, placing her hands upon his pelvis and forcing his body downward to the answer of a pained yelp and careful whimper. "Nor for tears, my dear," she added with a sigh, retracting her hands a moment. She truly did not want to break him, physically at least. His attitude had become much too valuable, and his flesh even more tasteful in its use. But surely as he now trembled, his body would meet its limit at the hands of a client. She was certain of that and only hoped the boy would be prepared for it when the time came.  
     She took a moment to herself, and quickly decided to give him time to adjust. "I will leave you to figure this out for yourself," she told him reluctantly, hoping he'd learn the process on his own and so divert possible harm. "I believe our friend has been ignored long enough," she said, passing her glance over to Emerald again, who had been steadily crying over his circumstance. The bulk of his load had cooled and somewhat dried, but it was all still mashed between his legs, even around his genitals which had lost all interest in anything sexually related. "I think it is time he is punished for his actions."

     After a brief recess to the upper cave, the headmistress returned with a run of white fabric slung over her arm. She stood at the door as a pair of shadows were suddenly cast down the spiral stair and one guard followed by another came into the dungeon, each carrying a wooden pail full of water. Occasional waves spilled over the edges as the two leveled their motions and one was even taken aback by the sight of Amber. "To the boy at the far end," the woman charged them, before passing her eyes to the golden child pleasantly massaging his innards upon the pole beneath him.  
     "That's it," she cooed to his half awareness as she neared him. "Your body will surely be made pliable if you show earnest in riding your master." The guards placed their buckets down beside Emerald, each tossing their heads aside as the infamous stench came to them. The boy could not bear to look up at them, but curled his half-naked form to face the wall, not even aware what exactly they had delivered to his need.  
     They each shared a nod with their Mistress as they passed and began again to ascend the stairs, and soonafter the door groaned as it was swung shut. The momentary exchange of air helped to dissipate some of the reeking scents that wafted in the air, yet Emerald found no release from the torment that threatened each and every one of his senses. He had coughed several times as his stomach had turned throughout his exposure, and his upper lip was a mess of snot, his eyes crusted over with tear-stains. Still before him, that decaying lump sagged into the rock floor, a gentle reminder of his fault. With its cooled features, it no longer gave off so strong an odor as that which presently weighed his legs down. He felt as an infant, incompetent and in need of another's care. And surely, as those loud footsteps approached him, the echoes reawakening his consciousness, he had earned his cleaning.  
     "Remove it," her heavy words fell to him. He stared at the boots peeking from her cloak, daring not to gaze higher, and silently peeled fingers into the tightest tucked stretches of the cloth around his body. As he did so, the shifting clumps and sliding paste beneath him churned his stomach to nearly dry-heave once more, but the boy caught himself and worked through it, certain that tarrying in this chore—for whatever reason—would only worsen his predicament.  
     As the weight of it slunk and tugged the cloth from his skin, the full scent of the load escaped into the surrounding air, while the light _thud_ of it landing upon the stone granted Emerald relief to finally detach it from his body. He was not yet rid of it, however, and his Mistress was sure to ever remind him of this mistake he'd made, as surely as tears now burned in the edges of his eyes. "Now," her stern voice returned to him, "pick it up." The center of his brow raised, and he began to lift his sights, but stopped himself as the thought of question fled from him.  
     He looked down beneath him, and behind, and brought a leg up as he grabbed at the cleaner ends of linen and folded them over the despicable pile. As the heat between his thighs dispersed and he raised a knee to balance upon his foot, the boy was well aware of the fecal mess that remained upon his skin, like wet sand peeling apart to choose a side of his loins. But the feel of it was hardly at the front of his mind as he struggled to lift the soiled cloth and its pungent contents up from the ground, careful not to move it too much as he rose to steady himself on his feet.  
     She watched him intently as he stood there, holding the bundle out before him. It was questionable whether he meant to keep it from grazing his flesh, or that he was actually offering it over to his owner. She made no effort to take it from him, made no movement at all. But again she commanded his action, "Return it," and for once he dared to delay.  
     The boy was a mess of drying mucus and crusting tears, skin covered in the stale stickiness of cold perspiration, beside the uncomfortable grit that still lined his crack; his psyche had suffered much from the humiliating act of relieving himself in front of other children, and brutally so, now even standing in their presence as though he should be proud of what he'd done. But this request which surfaced in his thought—this demand from one who was beginning to control him so absolutely, and so simply—caused its own string of synapses to fire, in quite a familiar way as he had recently tried to avoid: His mind questioned her order.  
     The confusion in his glare as he tilted his chin to bravely meet her eyes was not that he didn't understand the call, but merely that he felt he was due a reason. It was the light in his pupils, the subtle _why_ , which brought the painful grip upon his ear and caused him to bumble in correcting his balance, being tugged aside into her clutch as a yelp passed from his lips and his eyelids winced shut. His feet tripped over themselves, toes kicking one of the pails below, and the sagging lumps swayed and spun in their package as he held onto the loincloth tighter than ever. His eyes opened with strong effort and focused beyond the tears that coated his vision. His Mistress outstretched her arm to point at the other corner, where that slave among slaves was bound to her place. In his hand was something which belonged to her, something which he had borrowed, and now he must give it back.  
     Jet as yet showed no direct interest in the goings-on of the dungeon, still recuperating from her near-death experience. Her head hung low so that the blades of her shoulders nearly touched as they folded over her spine. Strands of hair the color of night secluded her face in shadow, and it could perhaps be assumed that she was presently asleep. But still, Emerald feared her. He'd always kept his distance though she was ever bound, and this time more appropriately than before. Yet, as the vice upon his ear released and a forceful shove pressed him in the direction—the bulge of what he carried bumping his torso as he claimed his road—he began to weep again.  
     Did she expect him to put it on her? He wouldn't dare to get so near. Should he empty it first? That was more a question of whom he should choose to insult. The Amazon was more dangerous in many respects, but the headmistress continued to prove she owned the greater power over them. Another step closer, and his heart was racing in his throat. Suddenly, the immobilized slave showed movement, her heaving chest giving way to huff out a quick exhale. Her neck jolted to stare at him, the already frightened boy now frozen in his tracks. He could barely spot the whites of her eyes behind that hair, but the flare of her nares and the wrinkle of her top lip pulled his attention like a magnet. If he'd take one more step into her space, he felt she'd break those chains and shred him to pieces; and if he'd back away, he'd suffer the wrath of his Mistress instead. At least, that was his thinking about it.  
     The woman behind knew no ill would come of this. It was all to the point of due punishment, of which being forced to shit in the public of his peers was hardly a part. She was ever curious to witness the extent that Emerald would obey her, whether it seemed that his life depended on it or that it had all been devised purely in jest. He'd thus far surpassed her expectations of him, yet as he continued to stand in that sole spot she was beginning to question his intent. She finally huffed a pleasant sort of chortle as he swung the filthy delivery from his presence and released it into the air; it hovered a moment as it crossed the space between the two Gems and finally landed to burst open in sight, sound and stench before the twisting backbone of the one who tried to avoid it.  
     Her cry sent saliva from around her bit, and her eyes glared all manner of hatred at the young fiend who was already returning to the opposite wall of the room, darting around to the lee side of his Mistress as the chain links clattered and the strong girl thrashed to either free herself or simply shift her proximity with regard to the stinkbomb. Tears across the room fell from the resident infant, and Emerald might have loosened his bowels if he wasn't emptied already, but overall the true adult on the scene was satisfied with the outcome. Now, perhaps, the boy was finally willing to listen.

    She reached a hand to touch delicately upon the Arabian's head, an action allowed by the fact that he required some comforting as his eyes took a moment to be wrenched from the conniption fit he'd started. When his focus was drawn to his safety from the creature, to the motherly figure beside whom he now clung, he almost flinched at the realization of her fingers so near to his ears, but was quickly soothed by the petting, the cooing of her voice behind the sounds which raged beyond them. She turned to face him, cupping her caressing glove around the curve of his skull as her fingers began to relax the scalp beneath his wiry hair. Her body seemed to absorb sound, as certainly it was blocking view of the one he'd offended. And even as he recalled his action, it was to fill her order, and surely no harm had come to him. He'd not known this side of her, but he did enjoy it.  
     Her hand fell to a shoulder, and she began to turn him from his haven, her cajoling voice settling in his ears. "Let us get you clean now, hmm?" his Mistress spoke softly.  
     He nodded, so slightly, finding it difficult now to turn his gaze from her, though his concentration now fell to the hand sliding upon his skin, brushing the light hairs that sprouted across his neck and down his back. Gently, she pushed him away, his feet rearranging as another hand helped guide a wrist forward, his palm to land upon the cold rock wall. She lined the one glove up his forearm and past his elbow, grazing the weak muscles leading up to his shoulder, and continued her tender motions as she passed her first hand down his other arm, mirroring the placement of his hands.  
     The glove then jumped to his waist, clutched his side lightly and soothed his tension as the edge of a boot brushed his calf muscle and coaxed him to spread his stance. As he did, the discomfort in his crack returned to him, and his brow furrowed to feel embarrassment once more. The mess had by now caked against him, as dried mud struggling to peel apart. But soft whispers came to his ears, words he could not make out among the backdrop of sounds reaching the wall which he faced, yet still his worry was dispelled, for he knew she would make this better.  
     The woman kept a glove beside his back, her palm retracting though fingers remaining to traipse around the uppermost edges of his gluteus. Behind, he sensed her form bending aside, heard the hint of something tapping water, and then was lulled by the sudden drawing of liquid, the plunge of endless drops returning to their basin, and beneath, the folding of cloth and leather as she took a knee behind him. Her hand pulled from him for a moment to wring the linen of excess, and before his ears could catch another growl, his body would jolt to feel cool dampness wedge into the crease of his legs.  
     Emerald's head propped up as though she'd pulled his puppet string, and a gasp escaped as his eyelids fell, his owner grinding the soaked run of cloth forward along his crevice, extracting brown clumps from the nests they'd claimed and dragging their grainy remains against his skin. Behind, the tug of softer, cleaner fabric wiped him free of residue, and as he brought his sights downward again, he saw the earthy stain upon that glowing white sheet finally leaving his body.  
     The first swipe over with, his Mistress returned the linen to the pail beside her and doused its collection beneath the surface. Much of the sediment fell or dissolved into the bath before she pulled it out and wrung it once more, then tucked it around her pointed hand and reached her arm beneath the boy to pick and pry at smears of filth that had pushed into deeper grooves. Emerald squeaked a cry of dismay as a cold, wet end jabbed at the place which had caused this mess, though he held himself steady before her and tried to imagine the moment over. It did pass, and the woman pulled the dirtied point in and turned the whiter linen out as she continued to probe the gutters of his perineum and the trappings alongside his delicate pouch. His testes tickled, his scrotum twisted, as occasional folds of fabric washed him clean of the umber paint.  
      The boy gasped to feel her touch withdraw from his center once more. He realized the stiffness of his loins in the moment they relaxed, how his breath was being held back while she worked. It was a casual chore, perhaps a servant's duty, yet for him she had turned it into a sensual experience, as if she were indeed planning to get a rise from him. And a part of him _did_ rise, which she made note of as she rinsed again the cloth in her hands.  
     Running drips echoed in his mind as she pulled it from the bucket, but this time no squeezing action followed. She, instead, folded the loose shape over itself, once upon another, until a smaller square—still drenched in water—rested in her palm. She brought it 'round his waist and gripped his extending shaft in the depreciative clutch. Streams of cool liquid passed down and around his length, between his legs and over his thighs, as a surprised cringe forced his center to bend. The blood which had just engorged him fled once more from his crotch, as his boyhood shriveled back to a pliable size and a smile crossed the lips of his Mistress.  
     The hand holding him followed the path of waning drops and continued to wipe the final remnants of fecal matter from the Arabian's skin. The white bundle swapped hands beneath him as the shortening appendage flopped downward, still wrapped in that curious binding she'd painted upon him. The cloth rolled and peeled through his legs, carrying with it traces of crud and ever wiping him with an untouched portion 'til at last her job was complete.

     The headmistress dropped her soiled rag into the now-murky water, the slap of it sending drips over the edge before it started to drift into the depths. She raised herself up behind Emerald, who held his stance, both out of pleasant appreciation for her care towards him, and an unsureness of whether he could relieve himself of the posture. She said nothing, and so he remained, though he did turn to watch her pull away from him and approach the table of renown. There, his counterpart endlessly worked his magick over the staff of his wanting, seemingly unfazed by any of the events which had transpired.  
     As Emerald's focus settled upon the boy, he was curious to know what drove him to act that way. Could it truly feel that nice for him? that he would pound his hips over and over against something so fat and hard and monstrously long? Each time he pushed his thick frame down upon it, this voyeur swore he saw it displacing his innards, causing his gut to shift to appear a little rounder. It might have been so, for his anus had indeed become but a sleeve for the glass cast, the fluctuations of his loose muscles ever producing a pale slime which strung and spilled from his gaping asshole and drizzled the boards beneath his plump cheeks.  
     His movements were mesmerizing, and the dark-skinned boy was almost frightened to see his Mistress already working behind him. His heart jumped as he heard the bucket creak, but he calmed himself as his eyes returned to the slick rock in front of him. His eyelids trembled shut as something foreign was pressed to the hole at his rear, inserted to a point and left there a moment. Then, in an instant that reawakened his confusion, cold flooded his senses, washed away his cordial mood, and moistened his eyes with sudden tears.  
     "What is the matter, my pet? Don't you like this?" His Mistress was smiling widely to see him twist his hips a mite, trying to fold himself inward around the spot that drew his body-heat like a piece of ice. Only, he could not pull away from it, for this was within him, and it bothered him so. And just as the initial shock of it blended into his system, it returned, refreshed and perhaps greater in surface area. He could not understand it at first, only wishing that his body would melt it quickly, or else repel it from his nerves. "Surely you knew this would happen, hmm? Your body must be trained, after all."  
     What did she mean? How could he expect something like this? His mind's eye could not even place what it was she was doing, only that she seemed to be drawing his heat away from him, as if she could control such a vital part of his physiology. There was no pain; it was rather a sort of numbness which he found, and yet, as the feeling passed, some other awareness came to his mind, one that was perhaps familiar to him, especially in recent memories. But it fled from his thoughts as his Mistress brought upon him another surge of _pressure_ , drawing his attention as evenly as she drew water.  
     Her hand released the rubber bulb, and it gently refilled its capacity, pressing once more against the waiting grip of that gloved palm. As she clutched it a third time and depressed the full ball to collapse upon itself, the tube leading upward straightened in its sag to force the quick stream up through the nozzle which had settled itself unobtrusively beyond Emerald's sphincter. The cold water continued out from its end, into the pool of liquid that flooded his walls and constantly struggled to gain an equilibrium with the heated degree of his body. With each influx of this drastically lower temperature, his muscles were quick to contract and to clench, his limbs to tighten and his stomach to curl; the actions themselves aided in ensuring the injection would not spill from him, and the numbing sensation in increasing the span of its passage.  
     The boy's gasps came trembling against the rock, and his joints weakened as he held himself up to receive this treatment from his Mother. For that is what he must then consider her. She had seen his worst: he had tried her patience. She had punished him for it, and he had learned from it. She had comforted him, and he adored it. But this—he did not know what to make of it. It didn't hurt as she had dealt upon him before, though it might perhaps become an embarrassment for him. It took him a while before he was certain it was water she was sending into his body, and a glance beside him was all it took to calm his fears: the white blur at the bottom of this bucket still sat in undisturbed water.  
     So then, what was it that she planned from this? The liquid inside gave him a different sensation, a gentler one, a less strenuous one. It steadily parted his walls around the nozzle, and even the cool feel of each additional squirt became less apparent as the water surrounding formed a buffer between the great differences. Emerald might even have raised his eyelids to witness his own arousal being brought to life above the soft ride of his bucking hips. The motion was not so purposeful as it seemed, but the point was taken: he enjoyed what Mother was doing to him.  
     She did not mean it to be so pleasant, and indeed was curious to hear the shift in his exhales, from gasps of surprise to those of delight, and possibly a groan as the rising water level licked its way into further chambers. She now pumped an almost seamless flow into him, such that an ear to the boy's backside might sense the swirling echoes of liquid entering this end of his intestines. The trickle into his sigmoid flexure soon pried those walls too, as the gentle inflation delved and poured deeper than he could feel.  
     The pressure was there, spreading his muscular pipework as his rectum was reaching its maximum capacity. The water felt warmer, or perhaps his body had cooled, and he soon realized the need to alleviate the tension—but should he? Creases between his eyebrows displayed his worry. Whatever she meant for him, something was not right. He had an inkling which told him to hold it in, not to dare release _especially_ with his Mother so near; and he listened to it, cinching his anus around the nozzle though it continued to lead water into him.  
     His Mistress witnessed this wink and knew at last Emerald's stress had begun. With the lowest segment of his colon full, his body was most aware of need, and he would be fighting his own muscles—training himself to control them—against the occasional cramp that dared to tear through his walls. It was a subtle foe, unlike Mercury's cock or those counterfeit extensions. His insides had been forced to conform to their shape and sizes, but this penetration conformed to his, and it filled him thus, utterly and immensely. And when there was no more room for it, it searched deeper and filled that space too. It could not be stopped.  
     Unless he took charge. But, no. The woman would hate him for it. He knew it. She'd only just given him the worst punishment he could have hoped to endure. If he relapsed on his training, even so soon as this, she would truly lose her faith in him; he would surely become a display of disobedience for his peers, as Diamond or Jet. He would never know Amber's bliss.  
     He must learn to control his urges, he was certain of that fact; but the pressure was deepening, and the strain of his muscles trying to grind such a phantom penetration as water was causing him mental anguish. The latest cramp went on for nearly five seconds, and it ended with a whine through his gut, a slight ease of tension as the boy's depths pulled water _inward_ to relieve the pain. His inner muscles pinched the opening as an assured wink, yet with the endless flow being fed into him he was soon in the same curious predicament, if only now the influx threatened the entrance to his descending colon.  
     His tubing was deflated, emptied of late and so it easily welcomed the choice of expansion. And no objects barred passage, as surely would have been the case if his bowel movements had not been allowed to finish. His pain might have extended all along the course of the liquid, but instead his only struggle centered upon the stretch of his rectum. Occasionally, his cramps caused his intestines to invert their motions, to create the suction which caused him relief. He was only faintly aware of the passage of water through his anatomy by the temperature that chilled even to his skin. But his eyes were closed, his head pressed down to lean against the rock wall, his elbows constantly bowing outward in uneasiness.  
     There was a discomfort that settled in him, took his focus whenever the cramps had subsided. His legs bent and his butt wagged, he raised a foot and pointed his toes down to a new spot. He began to wonder how long this had gone on for, how long until it would cease. His Mistress kept the stream steady to the best of her efforts, but even she was uncertain how much of this torment would be enough.  
     An occasional gurgle inside brought a blush to the Arabian's cheeks, a smile to his owner. Between his legs, the extension of his prick hung semi-flaccid in its wrapping, long and yet soft, as though he had attained a full erection but could not keep the pleasure enough for it to show. But an orgasm was the farthest thing from his mind. If he had the strength to focus his eyes upon the reaction of his libido, he would surely be more perplexed than any.  
     His breathing had grown shallow, the fullness spreading through him made more noticeable with deeper inhales. Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal carried through the air as water began to eke through the next portion of the boy's bowels. The sounds disgusted him more than anything, to know that his body was betraying him; for he wanted more than anything this scene to end, but the more water that entered him, the more noise his involuntary spasms would generate. What was worst for him was the knowledge that this was all moving upward, inward, farther along; it was not moving out of him, but was being pushed against the natural flow. He wondered what might happen when it came time to release it all. Or, would he even be allowed the opportunity? The more weight he was forced to hold, the greater effort he needed to keep it from escaping. What if there came a point when he simply could not control it any longer? He dared not follow that thought further.

     Emerald's groans had become constant, almost continuing through each gasp as he forced another exhale out. His lungs were battling the stress in his coelom, and his meager frame was suffering from the rearrangement. Behind, his Mistress was made aware of a perpetual twitch at the focus of his crack, and she took this as a sign that his facilities were nearing their limit. She rested a glove upon his backside, a thumb beneath the nozzle, as surely his wincing struggles had presented his rump more directly towards her. She lowered the bulb and traced her fingers up the tube to meet her other hand, and finally, delicately, pried at his orifice to dislodge the offense. As a spurt and a trickle followed it out, his Mother cooed him to tense up for just a moment longer.  
     He bounced upon his knees, his eyes awakening to know his time had nearly come, and delighted himself in her touch as he peered down his body. The sight was grotesque; a whimpering moan emanated from his throat as his forehead produced wrinkles, for his stomach had distended in a taut bulge from beneath his ribcage. No wonder he had found breathing to be difficult. She had stocked him with so much liquid that his body did not know what to make of it. Where once he could see the sprouting hairs that started at his navel and thickened to a soft nest above his crotch, now he could faintly make out the depression where his umbilicus resided, and beyond that nothing, until at last his shameless penis hung on the verge of masterful rigidity.  
     He moved his legs about uneasily, trying his best to keep shut the bladder his rectum had become, each time blushing deeper to know his thighs could so effortlessly feel the proximity of his sagging abdomen. He waited on her call for him to relieve himself, which he would gladly answer, no matter who was there to watch. Anything was better than this aching pressure which had transformed his body.  
     The woman pulled the tube, the bulb and the nozzle away and dropped it in her pail. More than half of the bucket had been drained, and if she could see the boy from another angle, the surprise might begin to wear off. Yet, she had no plan for him to refill it, to return its supply at this moment, at least. He had been taught physical control, and had learned to no longer test her; he had both hated her and admired her. But now, he would be disciplined. He despised himself right now—his circumstance, his appearance—but he would be tortured by it, as any slave in this room would be, as the answer to his misbehavior. Perhaps when his mind had finally had enough, he would never dare to question his duty, ever again.  
     When her touch returned focus upon his rear, Emerald did not know what to expect. And when she began to push something against his clenching hole, he hoped it a finger to aid in emptying his bowels. But when it poked deeper and thicker and even spread against the force he'd applied to remain closed, his eyelids dropped in a confused moan as his ring ground along the slick rubber and finally cinched itself nearly shut at the other end of it. He spilled a little, felt it run through his crack and touch his ballsac. His anus swallowed around the mysterious insertion, tugged it inward then let it settle again. The curious shape of it made it difficult to keep from expelling it, but this was quick to change.  
     His Mistress pumped her hand once again, only this time no liquid entered the boy. He was not glad for it, because this was a different pressure which began to fill him, one which he had tasted before and now, as then, disliked. She watched him squirm as the toy within was forced to grow, to displace the water in his rectum and cause only a few drops to spill outward before the seal upon his sphincter was set. His hole was not spread, as he had suffered on previous occasions; instead it was his inner membranes, once clutching a fluid periphery and now finding a solid object, a spherical mass, to shape to and perhaps dare to stretch with.  
     Cramps returned to him in full force as his insides now had something to grip and squeeze—albeit with little response from the item. The sounds returned, and his legs nearly collapsed from the pain of his body trying to evict the foreign matter. He fell to a knee, one hand catching the floor, as his anus pushed with all its might, the view of his attempt more than noticeable behind him, yet the woman was pleased that nothing came of it; and perhaps the boy was as equally pleased, for he had certainly almost disgraced himself before her again, if she did not find this sudden reaction merely amusing. With the passing of his contraction, the allowance for a few more stretching pumps gave the woman an assurance that there would be no accidents here. She unhooked the air hose, rose to her feet, and nodded to herself above the sighing form of the bloated child.  
     "Now then, my boy," the words of his Mistress came to lecture him. "Know that you brought this pain on yourself." Her footsteps echoed in the waning construct of his mind as she gripped the edge of the lighter bucket and moved it away beneath the table. She retrieved the other and did the same, tucking it out of harm's way. "You're much too weak. You'll surely break if you cannot exercise those muscles we are all most interested in." As she said this, she stood again over him, passing a cord around her fingers as she began to form a knot ready to be tightened.  
      She held onto it as she reached down to clutch one of Emerald's arms, tugging him up from his miserable seat, his legs trembling to stand once more. She slipped his hand through the loop, then forced it 'round his other wrist and pulled the rope to bring them together, and finally raised his arms to reach for the hook above their heads. With a few more tugs, she tightened the bounds even enough to threaten the strain of the boy's weight through his forearms. He gasped to feel the sting of the cord burning into his flesh, but found himself too depressed to altogether care. He was her marionette; she'd already proven that. Now, at least, he appeared as one.  
      His eyes remained closed, though he could sense her movements away from him now, as she came at last to Amber's side. The spoiled brat. The teacher's pet. How she'd loved to watch him. His performances never let her down. And now, after all she had done to the Arabian, the younger boy witness to it all, his libido had maxed out, his body utterly softened as he pinned himself to the bold penetration he'd slaved over nonstop. The pillows of his ass smeared and flattened over the moist gunk which had aided his actions, and his eyes could barely focus as his Mistress came beside him to admire the fulfillment of her command. Still he bounded upon it, as if he wasn't sure how much of it was left—or perhaps he desired there to be more. But alas, there was no more length for him to accept, and the woman gave him her compliments for it.  
      Now, in this dark space, two males owned a bulge in their gut, and it brought satisfaction to their headmistress.


	15. The Runaway

     "I tell you, something is amiss," Kaseem asserted his suspicions to two of his comrades, though hushedly for the ears about them. As each had awoken from his slumber within the cave, he was handed fresh robes and sandals, and washcloths to make full use of beside the spring. Some were filthier than others, and so some were quick to take the offer, while others lingered inside to admire their grand mess as countless servants busied themselves to clean it—not least of all the half-conscious form of a girl being helped to her feet as the layer of film which she wore cracked and peeled along her joints.  
     Jasim's brow furrowed as he batted a hand as if to shoo the notion from his presence. "Bhaaaagh—" his voice sounded out as he did so. "You think too much on these things."  
     The first of them had congregated in and around their camp, Jasim quick to rummage together a meal while Nijad stood within the tent dressing himself in more formal attire. Kaseem, however, had taken it upon himself to worry about where Ma'mun had gone off to. None of them had seen him since the night before, and they might have expected to see him when they returned to their tent, but only Kaseem was curious enough to notice that the caged slave had also disappeared from her place.  
     "You heard it as well as I, she was ready to kill him last night," he said, speaking now of the headmistress.  
     "Oh, and you think she killed him?" Jasim whispered, careful too of the words he let travel far. "While we were all asleep?" He shook his head and continued eating his cake.  
     "I did not say that," Kaseem backed himself up. "But where could he be? Why is he not here now?"  
     "Have you noticed we are short one camel?" Jasim pointed out while crumbs rolled over his beard. "Maybe...he went off somewhere to clear his head. Or, perhaps you think the camel has been killed as well," he chuckled, but received no piteous response from his comrade.  
     Kaseem, instead, spoke calmly and clearly, "I have noticed, but I did not think it wise to say because it is _your_ camel which is missing."  
     At this, Jasim rose to his feet in full surprise, completing a hard swallow as he stepped in view of the posts where each of them had tethered their mounts, and thought back to the moment he had led his own to be certain that Kaseem had guessed right. "So it is," he said more plainly as his countenance returned to one of indifference. "Well," he spoke as he hobbled back to his seat, "I hope he comes back soon. My wineskin is upon the reins."  
     "He is not coming back!" Kaseem stressed, albeit quietly.  
     Just then, Asim approached them donning his white robe, wiping water from his eye and rubbing his hair with the cloth in his hand. He blinked and looked to Kaseem, as the other was busy taking another mouthful. "Is Ma'mun inside? I bet he is still wallowing in pity for not keeping his hands to himself," he smiled wide.  
     "He is missing," came the curt reply.  
     Jasim groaned and frowned and shook his head all at once. "Mmnnh," he started, holding up a finger as he finished chewing and cleared his throat. "He is not _missing_. He is only not here."  
     Asim stood confused before them as Kaseem retorted back. "Do you know where he is?"  
     A hand settled upon Jasim's knee as he pushed his direction to look straight at his brother. "No, but—"  
     "I do not know where he is," Kaseem concluded. "Unless Nijad is busy figuring out how to stuff him under the brim of his turban, _he_ does not know where he is."  
     Within, Nijad shook his head as he stood before the looking glass. His muffled voice caught the others' ears, "I am busy reminding myself how much better looking I am among you all." Jasim chuckled at this, before Nijad's face came to the tent's entrance. "If I were you, Asim, I would not be making bets around Kaseem. I see you've finally taken care of that tuft on your head," he said, winking and smirking.  
     "Oh, you should talk," Asim defended himself. "Was it not you who was pleased to remain beneath us all for the first few rounds? When you were finally done, I mistook you for the whore herself, you were so white."  
     Jasim laughed immensely at recalling this, while Nijad paused just long enough to show he had been beat. "That is the price I paid to be the first to fill her innermost reaches. Or didn't you notice the swell in her stomach when I passed her off to you? Tell me, which was harder: trying to get off inside a pool of my semen, or looking Kaseem in the eye as he bleached a streak of your hair?"  
     "That is not how it happened," Asim started.  
     "Then I do not wish to know what it was. Whatever happens in the Harem, may it stay there." Nijad smiled handsomely and returned to the seclusion of their tent, as Asim followed him in and continued to keep up the pleasant conversation.  
     Kaseem and Jasim were left to return to their spat, when suddenly a shrill whistle carried down into the valley. The two turned first to see a number of the guards looking up to the ridge and exchanging signals with those above responsible for the call; then they turned to each other, both displaying their curiosity which silently assumed Ma'mun's return.  
     Assad was sat reclined within the cave still watching the slaves in their business as the captain of the guard made his way towards the end of the hall. The matter seemed urgent enough, but Assad had been much too satisfied with himself to lend any care. Instead, some of the servants began to offer him their attention, bringing him first a rejuvenating tonic, and subsequently trays upon trays of olives and grapes and curds to fill his requests.

     The captain descended the stair and rapped a particular knock upon the door at its end.  
     "Yes?" came the quick response of his Mistress, near enough at the other side to have her voice be very clear.  
     "A rider approaches, out of the northeast. They do not appear to be aimed for us."  
     "How many?" she asked, very intrigued by this news.  
     "One horse, two souls," her captain responded.  
     "A horse? That is certainly rare in these parts," she thought aloud. "Colors?"  
     The guard hesitated a moment, "White, I believe."  
     "Not the horse, my dear," she shook her head with a smile. "The banner."  
     "Oh, yes," he wiped his mind. "There is none flying, Milady."  
     She remained silent at this. The description was sounding less like a scout and more like a bandit. But she had dealt with those before, and certainly feared not another one in her midst. She unlatched the door and swung it open, releasing pungent odors which nearly caused the captain to stumble in his footing. "Something the matter?" his Mistress asked him, noticing his faltering posture as she fixed her hood and cloak.  
     He merely cleared his throat as he turned his back against the wall and straightened himself there. She chuckled and stepped out to the landing before the stairs. "See that this room is cleaned. Leave every slave in their place: do not touch a single one." She stated this for Diamond's case especially, though Emerald now was in equal standing with the whore. "Except that one," she turned to point at Amber who was still the greatest spectacle among them all. His particular predicament could not be seen from this angle, though his seat was curious enough to beg the question. "Help him to his shackles." She received a nod from her captain before ascending the spiral stair, calling down one last order, "And do take extreme care with him. He is more fragile than he appears."  
     "Understood, Milady," the captain spoke to her fading steps, before finally moving into the dank space with a hand covering his nose. The sounds of chains creaking and clacking against the stone walls were occasionally put aside by the moans and groans of some of the weakest minds in the room, but the gutteral, almost choking noises that Amber made with each breath first drew the guard's attention. Yet as he stepped around to see just what he was commanded to deal with, his widening eyes began to dart all around the boy's figure, not least of all his drooling face where a faint and somewhat proud gaze granted the man's mind one answer.  
     He returned behind the boy to inspect more properly the extent of the matter, each discovery causing more questions of _how_ to rise to the scenario. As he cautiously laid his gloved hand upon the middle of the child's back—receiving a sinister look of appreciation over the shoulder—the guard's uneasiness only started to showcase itself more clearly. His earliest struggle, it seemed, was whether he could keep his nose uncovered long enough to help the boy in any direct way, but when he finally resolved to carry out this duty, he learned that the stench was not always in front of his nose. It was at these moments when he took his breaths.  
     Now with two hands, he aided the boy in leaning forward, slowly and steadily enough for him to use his own hands for support as the captain helped fold him onto his knees, through very stressful grunts and gasps. As his backside moved from its seat, the penetration which could surely be seen pressing through his belly began to slip outward, its sleek shaft having nothing to catch on and soon no surface to prop its base upon. Though the weight of it was at least negligible within its small confines, it was the snakelike action of Amber's gut as the phallic cylinder squeezed from his sleeve which worked to slow it along its release only as his colon shrank and tugged back into place beyond its head, the most unique shape along the cast.  
     The captain kept his attention upon the boy's upper body, eyes still wide though he thought the slave could do with a level of abbreviation. He was not one to judge his Leader's training regimen, nor even why this boy seemed not fazed by the curious means of torture he'd been cursed to suffer. Perhaps he was drugged to be able to cope with it— but that was the extent of the man's concerns. He was merely glad that there was little more interaction needed on his part to return the child's body to normal.  
     Normal was not necessarily its original-state. There was no returning to that, at least. Though the bulge was growing less and less prevalent and his skin was not ultimately harmed by its once noticeable stretch, the particular layout which his gut had previously taken from his traversing colon to his rectum, now had less sharp angles to them, less twists and segmentation, as they had been stretched from the muscles that once kept them in their specific place. As his intestinal walls slunk 'round the final massive dome—more by releasing tension than using actual contractions—they were simply dropped where they could go, since the glass rod still displaced so much of his tract.  
     As it neared its end and all that remained was the length of the boy's stout rectum, it seemed to be left to his muscles to force the object out, and he tightened his loins and stiffened his neck as he brought feeling back into that portion of his body. His eye twitched to again feel a familiar heat pointing down against the table, this time more tenderly within its alien outer layer. But it was the pain of his sphincter clutching this shaft and dragging along it which truly kept his focus. His inward socket closed tightly around it and seemed to bunch up behind it in force to finally send it off, and just as the clouded edge of that tapering bulb peeled off of Amber's grimy rosebud and bounced and rocked to the wooden surface, he inhaled and relaxed himself as a slow drip of delayed semen made its way down his narrow slit.  
     The captain was ever impressed to see the full size of that which had until now impaled the child, though he was trying his best not to focus upon it, for it was truly a wretched sight, with its stains and streaks of at least three different shades, difficult to distinguish in the flamelight, though sometimes the red was especially vibrant. Still, considering the boy to have recovered somewhat, he tried to move him either by leading or tugging, until finally he felt the need to cajole him. "Come up, lad. It's time for you to rest properly."  
     Amber did not give him much trouble, aside from being quite weak in the knees and finding it difficult to stand without having his legs tremble, and even his arm shook as his weight was all but supported by the man who led him to his spot beside Sapphire and set his wrists in shackles.  
     All might have been an utter success until the guard raised to his feet and turned to face the room, bumping the table where the glass shaft had rested precariously with its array of sticky coats. His eyes grew wide as it tipped and turned and plummeted to the cold, wet floor, landing sidelong to bring its force of impact directly upon its center where a clean cut was formed in an instant. He and Amber watched it roll in opposite directions, now two halves with a sharp, sheer edge marring its once magnificent beauty. The boy stared at it, unable to make a sound as yet to dictate the heartbreak he was now undergoing, while the man gulped to imagine how much trouble this avoidable damage had cost him.

     The Mistress had made straight for her guards upon the dunes, ignoring all calls of greetings by Jahi's men and slowly luring each of them to grant her further attention. As she climbed the road to the lowest ridge, her guards met her, handed her a spyglass and pointed to the new bearing. "They are passing us by. Should we make our presence known?" a firm voice requested her input.  
     The horse was grey, a smooth coat with a long black mane, and its steps were deep upon the sand. Their path led the beast along the winding ridges as best as they could keep, though it was apparent that the wind was making things troublesome. The riders kept close to one another, bundled in dull cloaks that whipped free of their bodies every so often. White cloth wrapped their legs and dark blue covered their feet. Only a bridle and reins could be spotted upon the horse; no saddle, and particularly no sword, though a smaller weapon could possibly be concealed by either or both of them.  
     The spyglass lowered, and the woman sighed a deep breath. "That creature is not fit for this terrain. Ride out to meet them at once, and bring them here safely. They are likely riding to their doom, otherwise." The headmistress returned the glass and tucked her hands beneath her cloak as she descended into her valley.  
     Jasim and Assad had gathered nearest her, Kaseem just beyond them, while Nijad and Asim had remained at their campsite. "Please go back to your business, gentlemen," she told the three as she passed, hardly offering them further recognition. "Your inquiries will be answered momentarily, but first I must play host to our new guests."  
     "Guests?" Assad asked his comrade in a whisper.  
     "Who is it that is joining us, Milady?" Jasim sent his question more directly after her, but she did not pay him heed.  
     Kaseem shrugged as his brothers came closer to him, keeping his eyes upon the mysterious woman. "Are we not guards as well? And she refuses to keep us informed about things such as this."  
     The three of them watched one of her agile defenders pass them by and quickly prepare a horse. After fixing a white banner upon his person, he mounted the mare and took her out, soon galloping up the road and over the first dune. One of the others revealed their position in sending out a harsh whistle that first turned heads and then pulled the strangers' horse to a halt as their eyes met the rising cloud of dust and soon the other rider coming out to meet them.  
     Meanwhile, the men gathered back at their tent, while their Mistress returned indoors once again. She was not certain what sort of rabble might be arriving this time, but they were definitely not accustomed to the desert. Outsiders of that nature rarely meant trouble, so she intended to learn their full story before considering them worthy of her trust. Of course, until that point, she always felt it best to appeal to their needs; making herself out to be the weaker often worked in having those who would be her enemies make dire underestimations when it was least advantageous to do so. And if they proved not to be against her, she would find a friend that much more easily.  
     The Mistress clapped her hands twice in urgency to have her servants finish their work. "Look lively," she called as she made swift steps down the hall. "We haven't ten minutes, and this foul musk still lingers on the air. We have guests coming, so we must be quite presentable for them." She grasped the handle to The Room of Preparation and opened the door to an uncomfortable-looking Peridot in a wooden basin half her size, her neck resting upon a cushion as two servants helped comb a myriad of knots from her waterlogged tresses. "Do not stay in the bath too long, my dear," she reproached. "Your skin is enough of a pain to work with." The woman received a scornful frown in response, yet proved too preoccupied to notice. Instead, she found a small flask of oil and quickly headed out of the room to hand it off to a passing servant, giving her instructions for the perfume's use.  
     Another crisis averted, her next stop brought her to the room so designated for her distinguished Companions to sleep in, where as yet only a curtain shrouded the doorway. She drew this with an arm and called gently to the two Gems within, each curling their half-naked forms upon one of the several pillows strewn along the floor therein. "Awake, my pets. Your services may be required within the hour." Slowly, they each showed signs of their intent to rise, which was enough for their Mistress to leave them to their duties.  
     At last, she descended to the dungeon where two or three other servants had gathered to scrub down the furniture, floor and walls of the various discharges that many were responsible for in the hours passed. Only one area of the stone sat untouched, where her captain stood guard until the fated moment when his Leader returned to view it. He stood straight and silent behind the wreckage as her footsteps finally approached, and as the headmistress entered the room, she began to commend him— "Well, I—" before catching his fault and quietly exhaling out the remainder of her breath. She looked a long moment upon Amber, enough to make certain of the gentle heaving of his chest, before breaking the silence. "I know this has been difficult for you of late, but please refrain from acting out your anger on inanimate objects, especially those that are larger than you once were, hmm?" Mercury would be the sole witness to laugh at this, if his Owner did not swiftly respond to his chuckle with a very serious and grim glare.  
     "Yes, Milady," answered her captain, bringing her mind back to its purpose.  
     "If you are done supervising, you will be needed upstairs again. We have visitors to entertain, and I would like everyone kept in check as long as they are staying. There is no telling how our guests will interact with one another." She meant, of course, that her guards should be able to keep the peace between Jahi's men and these newcomers, should any disputes arise which at this moment remained unseen.  
     "Yes, Milady," he repeated, before bowing cordially and taking his leave.  
     "Ladies," the Mistress called out to those cleaning, "you may discard this sculpture in time. And when your work is complete here, please prepare a gruel for these slaves. I do believe they've earned a meal." Unlike her soldiers, she did not await a response from these. Their work proved easy by comparison—necessary nonetheless—yet she could not stay to either watch over them nor pay her Gems any care at this time. She expected her rider to be returning shortly and altogether wished to be ready for it.

     The guard surmounted the final hill and started the road at last, walking along and clutching a horse's bridle in each hand with now the two strangers sat upon his saddled horse, as riding theirs bareback along the steep slopes had proven even more difficult than presumed. As they came down the steady decline, another guard took hold of the extra mount and led it ahead to the stalls, while the first brought these two along past the camp where shady men spied them and up to the archway where a large and proud woman stood bearing pleasant greeting to her humble guests.  
     "Welcome, friends, to the Gemstone Harem. Our spring is yours to share, a room for the night as compliments, and we shall dress your horse properly for a small fee so that you may be on your way in the morning." Beyond their tight-knit meeting, Jahi's crew might have snarled to hear those words, for they were certainly not offered free accommodations at their first arrival. Of course, they were eventually offered even more than that, but the fact was irrelevant. Some of them began to suspect that these visitors were not so unknown as they seemed.  
     The foremost figure kept his head hung, while the other reached beneath his cloak and loosed a whole pouch of coins from his belt before tossing it swift to the Mistress's quick-witted catch. "How much shall this get us?" the strangely tender voice projected through his dark blue scarf.  
     The Mistress worked two fingers into the sack and pulled out a yellow coin that caused several of her guards' eyes to glimmer, and even sent its sparkle along to Asim and Assad, whose giddiness drew the attention of their comrades as they muttered, "Gold," to one another.  
     "Spanish currency," the woman pointed out in shared astonishment. "Where did you get this?"  
     She received no answer to her question, though it was merely asked to keep up appearances. "You have a good eye," the young voice replied. "There is more where that came from, but there are eleven others like it in that bag. So, do we have business? Let me know, or I shall be back on my way quickly."  
     She thought this peculiar behavior, but knew what was being offered. They did not wish to stay unless they could take up residence here, it seemed. If she wished to speak reason into them, she might at least bring up the fact that their horse would truly not get far without proper shoes and a saddle, but she also had no intention of turning them away. The money certainly aided the decision, but where answers were needed, she found that more questions were surfacing. Yet as sure as all of these thoughts were coming to her mind, their hostess did not waste time in providing a response. She placed the coin into its pouch and sealed it once more as she pocketed it, bowing graciously as she called, "You may stay as long as you wish."  
     "Excellent," fell the reply, as he and his silent partner moved to dismount. When the woman raised her sights again, she was surprised to see that both of these were quite short, nearly the same height; it turned out that the one who had been conducting business was even the smaller of the two, and when he removed his hood to reveal his soft brown hair and softer white skin, and peeled down his scarf to show his small jaw and narrow chin, it was apparent that he was no more than a mere boy. "Please show us to our room, and we shall be no more trouble to you."  
     "Are you certain you would not like a refreshment, perhaps a meal?" she asked them, pulling upright so as not to seem as if she were now barring their entry.  
     "We are quite well fed at the moment, thank you. We would simply like to rest and be out of your way," he nodded politely.  
     She returned a formal bow and turned to lead them into the cave, still keeping up a dialogue to see if she could delay his ellusiveness. "Perhaps some entertainment? A dance may help to soothe your nerves."  
     "I am quite sufficiently relaxed, thank you. I would just like some privacy, if you would be so kind." He was certainly starting to take these niceties the wrong way, though she did not feel he could be scared off so easily, and so she only paused her inconveniencing a little longer 'til they were at last upon the doorway to his room.  
     "I am sorry, we only have one open room at this point," she apologized, playfully assuming the two could somehow stand to be parted, though the other as yet did not speak or reveal himself. "We can provide you with extra cushions if you need, or company if you would so choose," she shamelessly added. "Perhaps a young girl to delight your hearts?" In a way, she hoped he would turn her down again, because the only girl she had who was prepared for the task was the Egyptian, and her training had not yet reached its completion.  
     "That's quite alright. I do not need anything more, thank you." The woman bowed, and the two before her exchanged some quick interaction before the boy spoke up once more. "Actually, if I may ask—" his coy disposition surfaced.  
     "Hmm?" the Mistress begged his question politely.  
     "This door does not appear to have a lock," he pointed out.  
     "Ah," the Mistress nodded. "Well, that would be because it doesn't."  
     "I see. And is it altogether too much to ask for a room with a lock present?"  
     For once, she was confronted with a dilemma that lacked a simple fix, and she honestly hesitated to provide him with an answer he would accept. In truth, there were no other rooms designated for guests, and even as this one was not completely furnished to her liking, she had not considered those future guests trustworthy to give them use of a locked door while protecting the safety of any Gems who would be servicing any such clients. "Guard!" she called up the hall at last, and was soon approached by her captain.  
     "Yes, Milady," he replied.  
     "Please see to it that this door is given a lock and key, post haste."  
     "Right away, Milady," he said before going off immediately.  
     "Oh, a simple lock will do just fine," the boy told her, quite certain of his urgency for privacy, though he remained soft-spoken.  
     "This won't take a moment too long," she assured him, convincing him that it needed to be done eventually and that this was surely the proper time for it. He found that he could not change her mind or stress his desire more plainly, but ultimately resolved to sit upon the mattress within while his associate stood beside him in silent wait, both of them growing in unrest as the guard returned with the necessary equipment and began to cut away the appropriate portion of the door.  
     By a painstaking quarter of an hour later, the job had been properly finished if not missing the handles in order to open it from the inside, or close it from without. Yet, having waited quite long enough, the lad was quick to dictate his shared annoyance and appreciation as he finally received the key by request. "I am quite thankful, but I really am too tired to go on. Please forgive me," he called out as he shoved the door shut and sped the key into its lock to turn the bar at long last.  
     "Right. If you need any further assistance, please do not hesitate to ask." Their hostess smiled at herself as she made this final intrusion, and moved along to continue running her business.


	16. Behind Closed Doors

     The oil lamps flickered silently overhead as the boy leaned his ear to the door, listening intently for the assurance of the innkeeper's departure. It came quickly enough, and the two were finally given the privacy they had initially sought.  
     "Do you think she suspects something?" he asked, turning to face the other.  
     "She may," came the response from his counsel.  
     "Then why do we delay here?" the first boy remarked. "Why do we not continue on? We could at this moment be increasing our distance from him."  
     The shrouded other looked away. "We would never outrun him," he admitted calmly, "not on Filipe—not on these dunes."  
     "Then he will surely find us here!" his voice grew more anxious.  
     Steel blue eyes cut straight through to him from beneath the hood. "Relax, Hernando. All will be well."  
     He sighed heavily and looked upon the floor. "I wish I could share your certainty," he said quietly.  
     "Clear your mind of it," his friend told him, finally approaching to pet a hand upon his shoulder.  
     Transparent eyes answered him before a flood of tears began, as Hernando clutched the standing fellow's cloak and pressed his head against his middle. "He will find us, and he will kill us, I just know it," he wept into his companion's clothes, as a hand held his head and another rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.  
     Hushing sounds covered his sobs. "Where is the strong and resolute boy I fell in love with? Who was it who said not even death could part us? If that is what lies ahead on our road, we are strong enough for it, I know we are." Reddened eyes looked upward, and gasping breaths settled. "But my dear Hernando, grant me your trust. Better that he finds us among others than alone in the wilderness. He may come, but it will not be as you say."  
     "You don't think—"  
     "Shh..." A thumb parted his bangs as a gentle kiss was placed upon his forehead. "Heartless, he may be, but he is not stupid. We are safe here. You will see. But enough of this dreary talk." The hooded boy raised upright again, still with hands upon Hernando's temples and the other's grasping about his hips. "I'll not waste another moment thinking about him. It is for you that I did this, and at long last, we have time for each other."  
     The two shared a giddy smile as Hernando prolonged the sweet silence by clutching the other's wrist to tenderly nuzzle the soft hand. Its fingers fought to sprawl beneath his chin; his neck would swivel about, as if longing instead to be coddled, yet finally it was two palms beholding his jaw which brought his warm gaze upward.  
     "Rise for me?" the gentle call begged him.  
     He hesitated to obey and even frowned slightly. "You do not wish for me to please you thus?" he asked, passing a quick glance to the other's center just before his sights.  
     His companion smiled. "You please me already, my love. Now rise. It is I who wish to please you." He tilted his head as he pet the back of his hand across the other's locks. Hernando closed his eyes to bask in that touch before finally succumbing to curiosity.  
     As he rose to his feet, foreign hands helped shed his cloak from about his shoulders, falling to the ottoman where once he sat. The taller stepped aside to lead him ahead. The room was quite narrow, even for their small bodies; if they were not already comfortable with being so near to each other, it might have seemed cramped as the cloaked boy slipped behind the other, hands moving delicately along his fine blue vest and pulling it from his back.  
     They paused a moment with his wrists trapped behind him, their cheeks caressing one another as chin hooked neck and nuzzled jaw. Hernando smiled playfully, trying to tug his arms free. "Shhhh, allow me," the whisper met his ear before teeth found his lobe and brought a gasp from his lips. One arm slid out but remained in its place beside him. The other was led away, bringing the vest with it to be discarded atop the layer already removed.  
     Kisses fell to his neck as wandering hands returned to his front, fingers peeling his tunic upward, free from beneath the belt where several more coin pouches were tied in place. Those soft fingertips upon his bare stomach teased a quivering inhale from Hernando's being. It presented just the right invitation southward—the route which Hernando assumed would be taken. But his companion tarried, nibbling his bony shoulder above and stretching the collar of his keenly woven shirt almost with a tear as the other side caught upon the rising arc of his neck.  
     He tried again to free an arm, but was met with a cinching of elbows upon his frame, hands raising up beneath his tunic as fingertips grazed the fluid circles on his chest. "Don't..." started the breathless whimper, but his thought was severed by both he and his lover.  
     "Let me relax you, my dear. I know you have longed for this since we left Castile," soft words pressed out among breathy kisses leading back up to his neck.  
     "At least remind me of your taste," Hernando passed the request as he turned to face the heated lips so near to him, and was pleased to receive them in turn, hands flattening upon his chest to hug him more tightly as the tips of their tongues brushed each other's. No deeper did they press, either party upon the other, for such were the pleasantries to which these two were accustomed. But the joining of their mouths brought each of their hands alive: Hernando's to clutch those arms wrapping him, as the other's right hand sought out his left nipple, and left hand found the fastener of his belt. Fingers worked with deadly speed that pinched and twisted while prong slipped free, causing equal squirms from the both of them as they moaned upon each other's lips.  
     The one from behind lowered the leathern strap with its attachments and was soon working to loose those cloth trousers, breaking their kiss to direct full attention to the rising need, all hands driving downward and aiding its swift removal from all sides of his waist. As soon as they slipped away, fingers pressed the final layer of undergarment down Hernando's thighs and rushed to collect the small pipe hanging there.  
     He lifted it to view, giddily welcoming the sight as both of them shared a pleasant grin. Hernando's young body was only covered in smooth white hairs, invisible in this faint light, yet not missed. He grew to fit the hand that held him, narrow yet stiff with full arousal. One pouch remained upon his person, though hidden from view—small and yet dense from the weeks beholding this moment. He dared to lift his voice, but instead dropped a gasp as the boy behind him coursed additional fingers over his belly and between his legs, and finally pricked a long finger into the steamy crevice beyond his taut ballsac.  
     The boy collapsed as a puppet in a quick second, straightening upright again as surely as his shaft responding in its grasp. "You're balanced upon a hair, my love," words fell beside him. "Will you be spent before I've had my fun?"  
     Hernando did not know whether to answer or to keep his focus on the peculiar placement of that digit. His backside clenched, noticeably, though the finger was making no advancements to penetrate, nor any retreats. Instead, it pressed stiff into his narrow crack, far opposite the fragile skin that held his beads where strings within ever dared to tug them upward. It prodded his sphincter from without, almost as if it sought to make its own hole. The pressure of it began to numb his legs and tickle a spot deep inside him.  
     His feet were led apart by gently directed knees, while his own struggled to remain steady, especially when the appendage pointing up against his center flung over the wall of that outer ring and found damp heat that almost opened itself to the knock. But the hand didn't press onward as he was almost certain it would—and even dreamed it for a moment. Truly, he'd never felt anything push inside him there, but somehow his mind was soft enough to expect it thus.  
     A second digit came up beside the first, nearly as long, and both pressed strongly up and forward, yet not inward. It carried a gasp from Hernando's throat, and he felt himself going limp as growing pressure cinched the ductwork that ran through the valley of his legs. There was a dense weight hooking him there, controlled by two fingers. It slipped to and fro, as if scaling a wall only to slide back down it. With each press backward, those fingertips moved the place of his sphincter, almost rolling it inward but never fully breaking its barrier; they entered the depression, but never felt the searing heat of his inner flesh. And when they hooked forward once more, they seemed to tug the ring closer to his balls before rising out from it and along the steep hill of his perineum.  
     This treatment continued on for several minutes, occasionally causing the boy at the front to fold over himself and verbally beg release from the strange jabs upon his center. The response he received only convinced him of his defeat: "I think not. This body belongs to me." Hernando quivered to hear the thought. His being was overwhelmed from the rippling sensation down beneath him, his mind left to wonder if his anus would ever be breached. There was no doubt that he was greatly turned on by this—being hugged from behind, coupled with his lover's breath flowing down beside him, as a hand firmly squeezed his boyish prick, and his asshole almost turning fluid with each finger that flicked over it. And that dense area behind his balls seemed all the while to pound his heartbeat throughout his cleft.  
     A touch of feeling met Hernando as his penis swelled and jolted upright. The fingers beneath him ceased their onslaught in an instant, more certain of the orgasm than the boy undergoing it. Each contraction that tried to fire its stored load up and out from his body was pinched behind the well-timed upward stab of two aptly placed digits; the start of his taint never passed a single shot, though the pumping efforts rolling through twice a second dared to remove the blockage at times, to no avail. It seemed as if several more contractions were fed through the boy's system than would have been needed to expel all of his saved seed, but of course, the volume was never learned, and so the fact never proven.  
     Hernando's cock deflated from the time of the first would-be shot, and the tightness in his crotch took all of his attention as each partial thrust almost granted him relief, but instead only built the pressure he had thus far known. His breath caught throughout the struggle, and his mind reset its desires as if he had really attained his high, but physically he knew nothing had changed. Even the one holding onto him was unsure of the effect until the contractions faded entirely away. It took a while before it was safe to remove the hand from between those numbed legs.

     Deep, heaving breaths finally overtook Hernando as he collapsed against the wall ahead of him, his body slightly cringing with an uplifted leg that fought a cramp which had claimed his inner thigh. He turned his weary gaze upon the other, who stood smiling with an air of accomplishment about him. Hernando was unsure how to feel, but still pleasantly returned the smile. He had reached a climax, and so his form was made tired by it, but there was still a tightness within him, even as the tension of his leg's muscle finally passed.  
     He removed his shirt in a swift fling from his body and lunged forward to be welcomed into an embrace that revived their lusts for one another. Hernando continued to press himself into his lover, as he stumbled backward into the opposite wall, shoulders cushioning the landing before their lips finally met once again. Quickening breaths and softening glances were egged on by the probing touch each other employed. The clothed took hold of warm skin and grazed form; the nude slipped fingers beneath layers of wardrobe, displacing belt, lowering legwear, and hastily brushing into groin. Joints stretched and gasps broke, heat rising between the pair as waistlines fell and hands sprawled to wrap under bared buttocks.  
     Still in hood and tunic-bound, the taller raised even higher upon toes to dock above Hernando's standing prick. As leg lifted, trousers fell to one ankle, and bodies pressed as close as could be just when their eyes met in the calm before the storm. A gentle voice spoke up, quieted by ecstasy as lips trembled to break their kiss. "Fuck me," it demanded, resolute as the azure gaze ahead. "Dig deep inside me and reveal your love for me."  
     A heated exhale displayed Hernando's pleasure as his hands took firmer hold of the other's body and pulled his weight in and down all at once, breaking a stifled groan from the one he penetrated before they sealed a wide-mouthed kiss and both moaned to their full content. A thumb hooked about hip and pressed downward as his own legs drove forward and up and pushed the other cramped against the wall. Eyes strained and winced tighter, and a higher pitch squeaked out from one's throat. Hernando paused and pulled back a mite, but was quickly answered with a closing jaw and tensing neck.  
     "Fuck me hard. Don't hold back. Claim me as your own." Hands migrated up his back, lightly clawing at his young and tender skin as they hooked about his shoulders and pulled him away. "Hernando, my love, I want you inside me. I want all of you. Now fuck me like you want me too." Their smiles fed into another long embrace, folding into each other as their centers pulled nearer with force and stress and pain endured for the sake of swelling desire. "Yes, Hernando, yes—" the approval came as head removed from hood fell to lean upon his shoulder, hair the color of rich soil finally catching the soft flamelight.  
     Hernando grunted and tugged himself outward, and then with stronger grasp pulled their bodies together once more, gasping out as he licked at the other's ear lobe and played his tongue beside the pliant flesh. The piercing there caught his focus as he pressed more deeply into his lover, humming a note as he found the end of his reach, and pulled himself partially out before reclaiming depth with a powerful rhythm. His teasing tongue faltered occasionally, until the other's euphoria lifted them to face one another once again.  
     Their mouths entered another moist union as an arm wrapped wholly behind Hernando's back, and pivoting upon the raised leg his bliss-filled companion reached his free hand down between their bodies. Singsong moans echoed from one's throat to the other's. Brows wrinkled as fingers clutched tighter holds and the pounding cadence of Hernando's thrusts became almost numbing to both of them.  
     As lusts began to peak, Hernando's relief was finally at hand; his genitals, throbbing with anxious anticipation to release the load tempted earlier on, almost questioned his body as to whether their pathways were clear this time around. The strange tension knocked beneath his spine as the second climax neared, and his virgin asshole even flinched a few times in expectation. But when the swollen mark was conclusively met and the upsurging pressure flooded his lines, it was as much to his delight as to the one accepting it. The clouded spurt expanded its bubble deep within his lover's body, to the pleasant tune of welcoming words.  
     "Oh, Hernando. Yes, mmmm," gentler calls began when the first feel of the explosion breached inner space. "Give me all of it!" words almost shrieked above the lighter grunts of Hernando as his rhythm shifted to echo his testicular pump. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" each cry grew in pitch as the hand between them carried on its chore. Hernando was proud that he could supply for this need, amazed himself at how much his body had stored. It continued to flow and ooze and slide up his shaft even when the tension of his climactic contractions had melted away and a rush of heat wafted over his countenance.  
     His lover's insides clenched about his tender prick as exclamations alerted him to the other's orgasm, stiffening muscles in his grasp amidst the gasps and unstifled pleas that called out the ecstatic release. "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Yes! Hernando, yes! Nghh-yes!" White drips fell down Hernando's shrinking member, as red blush covered both of their faces—showing pleasure for one, embarassment the other.  
     Hernando was at last obliged to raise a hand to cup the back of the other's neck and seal those cries beneath a breathy groan. Wandering hands pet and caressed each other's form in the deepening love of their afterglow, as puffy seed spilled outward and tripped down shaky thighs. Lips strayed, noses nuzzled, and eyes grew weak yet remained wanton. Their silent responses played back and forth, gently cultivating the deep-seated fondness that had first brought them together. But even as they managed to share a pleasant chuckle, eyelids relaxed and shifted the directive as the delicate voice of the dark-haired one pressed, "Again, my love."

     In lieu of more militaristic responsibilities within the oasis—until such moments would arise—the captain of the guard had been given civic duties to attend to while his Mistress had become otherwise engaged. He was a trusted soldier, wholly devoted to protecting his Mistress and her interests. But it seemed to him as though that confidence was waning. For, even now, he was assigned to looking after children, as if they could pose any threat. Indeed, their arrival and presence here was curious at first, but after having spied on them through that keyhole, the only curiosity which remained was the dialect in which they spoke, for it was not of this continent.  
     Perhaps the most useful note of eavesdropping, the captain was not wholly lost in the translation of their motives by it. His Mistress had granted him the strategy behind gathering intelligence, namely in being able to decipher the many levels of communication beneath the words, included within both the verbal cues and the physical mannerisms. There was, for example, much emotion given off between these two which was not at all present when they were knowingly subjected to an audience. Within such privacy as this, however, one of them had gained a voice, and that might not have been taken lightly; equally so, his identity remained to be revealed for a great measure of time, even in closed quarters. He might have simply preferred it. Or, he might have suspected watchful eyes.  
     From the moment their dialogue began, much rose to the surface. He who had made payment—this _Hernando_ , as had been later deduced—had been set up as an artifice, a mere decoy. He was fragile, his heart was weak; he was dreading something, enough to break the unexpressive character he had presented to the Mistress. The other lad exercised power over him, yet gently, with a care later grasped by the true intimacy of their relationship. When that side of them began to subdue their innocence, the captain lost his immediate interest. Yet, he continued to watch if only to keep from breaking his charge—for he admittedly had little attraction to the sexual, and especially those encounters of emotional youths.  
     This showed even less strength in Hernando. He was compliant and rakish, as if his body needed tending to. And his friend did not just take on the responsibility: he was the dictator on the subject. He denied rights and enforced laws, he followed his own agenda at the other's expense, and he might have even broken promises. But there was enjoyment—questionable at first, but undeniable at its peak. The captain, of course, granted them decency in that moment, though his ears were ever turned to their focus.  
     When he returned his eyes to the scene, Hernando was responding with such boldness that the captain almost felt tricked once again. One moment, he was stone; the next, as fluid and transparent as air. Now, he appeared to have reclaimed the fortitude to press his own will. It was here that the other's countenance yielded fuller understanding of the situation, for there was no weakness displayed at all—no switching of roles as might have been expected—but actually a greater strength to continue to wield control over the first. Indeed, less words were shared between the pair; the lust in their eyes spoke loudly enough. They barely tore their sights from the other's gaze. Even the actions of their bodies were so attuned to each other, it was almost as if the hooded one had cast a spell upon Hernando.  
     Their coitus was not expected to arise in such a position, and in fact it might have been missed if a voice had not brought attention to the occasion, but the captain was at least thankful to have a leg blocking a great majority of his view of it—for eyes which may have wandered so low. He turned aside once more as their cries intensified, receiving a blush to be witness to this, and was glad when it was all but over. Hernando sent a glance to the door, but the captain was sure nothing came of it; he soon returned his attention to the other, whose hood now revealed the length of hair made unkempt by their actions. Tresses of dark hair dipped to the collar, at least twice as long as Hernando's thatch.  
     The notion which budded here was almost wholly proven as the leg finally lowered to kick off the bindings of trousers and footwear. The captain was sure of it, though he could scarcely believe it after all he had seen and heard. And even as the children retired to the bedstead, his eye began to inspect as directly as it could focus the space above those moistened legs. That Hernando was still able to conduct himself after that display was hardly a mystery compared to the true identity—the true _gender_ —of his companion. The angles, the lighting, the attraction of their bodies—all were working to guard the secret which the captain sought so fiecely to disclose. But the cloak fell at just the right moment and caught upon the elbows of the seducing creature, and as Hernando reclined, his lover reclaimed his body and naught could be seen from that keyhole apart from tunic and vest and hair above bundles of brown hide.

     Outside of the cave, rumors spread across the valley like a shadow in the sinking sun. As time wore on, Kaseem's worries for his friend's whereabouts infected the others among them, and now each had some explanation for Ma'mun's disappearance. But even that was not the sole question plaguing their minds as they discussed things within their tent. The clever trick their Mistress had pulled off in bringing those children here—at least one suspected they were part of some evil ploy. "Perhaps they represent the Merchant. They've come to kill us all and supplant Jahi on his return!" Asim easily owned the weakest mind among them.  
     "They are just boys," Jasim argued. "We can strangle them both in one hand, and you are afraid they will kill us?"  
     Kaseem agreed. "Indeed. Do not turn your focus from reason. The Lady is our true threat. If she wants us dead, she will not use children to bring it about."  
     "Well, then what business do such small hands have in owning so much wealth?" Asim pointedly remarked.  
     "He's right. What if they are spies, assassins paid for their deeds?" Assad seemed to defend his comrade. "They act as any child, cannot even be swayed by the gifts of a harem, only to sneak up on their prey and gut them at the height of their pleasures!" He finally showed his jest, and even brought out a laugh from Jasim.  
     Nijad spoke finally among his equals. "Asim is right. They have riches no adolescent should be trusted with. Perhaps we need to relieve them of that terrible burden, heh," he grinned wickedly, gaining more than a few others' interests.  
     "That may be," Kaseem admitted, "but you can be sure it would not be an easy task. Even if these visitors are not sided with the woman," he reasoned, "her guards will probably be looking out for them. They represent quite an investment—more useful than you or I or any of us. I am certain she does not trust us any more than she can throw us. From now on, we must all be wary of her tactics."  
     After a brief pause, Jasim answered him once more. "You will not give up on her, will you, brother?"  
     "Ma'mun was the first to catch onto her, and look where he ended up," Kaseem echoed.  
     Jasim sighed aloud. "If he never returns, would you wish to follow his lead?"  
     "So, you have changed your mind about his leaving us?"  
     "I do not know what has become of him; and neither do you, for that matter," Jasim stated, not wholly addressing the question. "I still think it is too soon to know for certain. Perhaps he has gone off to visit that pleasant fellow beside the shore."  
     Others began to nod, as if they had not considered that, but Kaseem was not sold. "What reason would he have to go there?" he asked indignantly.  
     Jasim shrugged. "I do not know. I am simply suggesting the possibility."  
     "I am certain she is behind this. And would you rather I remain ignorant of it?"  
     "Our lives are better than they have ever been—"  
     "No! Jasim, they are worse!" Kaseem's voice trembled as he stood from his seat. "We are puppets, here. Enslaved to a woman! who only requires one thing of us. We are no longer even allowed to fight alongside our captain. Ma'mun saw that and dared to escape it. For all we know, our captain has suffered the same fate. And what promise do we have of his return? We were not even there to see him off." He calmed himself and settled into his chair once more, all those around him suddenly made silent by his speech. "I will stay by you, brothers, but do not think she has fooled me. I see what she is doing; I see what she has done."

     Canvas did not seal back voices; rugs and curtains did not stifle emotions. The headmistress's servants were always keen to listen in on the conversations of these untrusted men, yet this latest rise in temper proved enough to pay off their purpose in doing so. Obviously, there was reason enough to increase surveillance, though avoiding suspicion was a higher objective, second only to creating paranoia. After all, as their Mistress had believed, the only thing more unsettling than a labyrinth was a hall of mirrors.  
     Their Leader's safety was their greatest duty, and this mutinous exchange was just the sort of evidence needed in order to seal these men's fates. There was not a second thought about it, not a moment wasted. Why, then, were no watchmen stirring? If procedure had been followed, this was the point where the guard posted beside their camp should carry the sensitive information indoors, straight to the one it concerned; or, if she could not be reached, the captain's ears would suffice.  
     But no one moved, in so direct a path as that. In fact, no one stood nearby their shelter. Oh, one had been there just moments ago, stationed beside the rear of the tent, where their voices were sourced—but Nijad had spotted the shadow and apprehended the figure at his earliest convenience, pulling the stealthy character rowdily behind the slip of the drapery.  
     "It seems we have a weasel in our midst," he called out as one hand moved to pinch the guard's vocal chords beneath scarf, other men rising to aid in capturing the meddler.  
     "What are you doing!?" Jasim whispered a cry to reason. "She'll certainly have us killed for this!"  
     Kaseem upheld a hand. "Oh, Jasim, hush. Let her try. We will slay anyone she sends our way, heheh," he began to chuckle alongside his brothers as he brandished a small blade in the guard's sights.  
     Eyes grew wide, and a scratchy voice tried to speak beneath the struggles of the three other men to restrain and disarm and bind the guard. Kaseem peeled his grimy fingers against the lip of the scarf and thrust it down the almond skin of his chin. He smiled to read words forming without sound, and offered a quick glare to Nijad as he asked, "Any last words?"  
     As Nijad loosened his grasp upon the guard's throat, a soft voice squeaked out, "Please...spare me."  
     All of the men grinned from this, though Jasim remained cautious, looking out towards the front of the tent in case they should be discovered. Kaseem's smile slowly faded, however, as he met the guard's trembling eyes. "You beg for your life? And why should we give you it? You are a spy," he said, raising the dagger's edge just under his jaw.  
     The guard's eyes winced shut in expectation of the worst, but the sting upon his neck did not intensify. Instead, the pressure lessened, and after a moment, words came again to his ears. "How old are you?" Kaseem asked softly, gaining equal looks of concern from his comrades.  
     A gulp displaced the blade an inch as curious eyes opened uneasily. "M-milord?" Was this some trick?  
     His reasoning was his own, for he had noticed no hairs upon that chin, neither sprouting nor cut. "Your age. What is your age?" he repeated, quite calm for one being asked to repeat himself.  
     "T-t-tw-twenty-five," the guard spoke up, unsure of the pertinence of such a request.  
     Kaseem sheathed his knife once more and suddenly thrust his hand into the guard's crotch between legs bound shut. He smiled wide as his eyes narrowed upon that surprised gaze ahead of him. "Oh, I believe we can find better use for a female like yourself."  
     The other men showed their bewilderment as Kaseem continued to probe and squeeze his hand there, smiling wildly throughout. "A woman?" Jasim asked, turning about and stepping nearer. "Huh, it is no wonder you say she does not trust us," he jeered at Kaseem. Then he moved his focus to the guard, saying, "How many are there?"  
     "I beg pardon?" shaky words fell.  
     Jasim nudged his brother to cease his intrusions before clarifying, "The guards. How many are women?"  
     "Nearly all of us, milord," she nodded to Jasim, slightly more calmed to no longer feel herself on the brink of death. "Only our captain is not, though he is less a man than any of you."  
     "How do you mean?" Kaseem's curiosity rose to her words once more.  
     "Well, he is a eunuch, milord."  
     Several of the men grimaced at hearing this, but Assad, who now stood to the side, questioned, "A eunuch?"  
     Kaseem took the liberty of answering his brother, turning first his neck while his eyes remained fixed, and stunned, upon the guard. "Like the Ethiopian, Assad. Exactly...like...him." Assad recalled that trade to mind, and slowly his face shifted to match that of his comrades.  
     "Why are you telling us all this?" Nijad finally asked, shaking his hold about her more securely in the hope to bring all of them back to the reason why this scout had been captured in the first place. "You reveal your Owner's secrets so freely. How do we know you are not lying to us?"  
     The guard passed a scowl aside as she gave her response, "She does not _own_ me. She does not even know me. I speak freely because I choose to." Her gaze softened as she again focused upon Kaseem before her. "You are reasonable men. If you spare my life, I'll not say a word of this to anyone." She raised her chin and straightened her neck as well as she could. "In return, you'll have my allegiance, ears on the inside. Together, we can bring her to ruin."  
     Jasim shook his head and muttered to himself, looking outside the tent again, and Nijad passed a firm glance forward to Kaseem, whose brow strained as he thought this through. He knew as well as any of his brothers that this guard could not be trusted. She may well have been lying simply to pass on her vital intelligence. "What is your name?" he asked her finally.  
     "Aisha, milord," she responded with a single nod.  
     He slipped his dagger from its sheath and watched his own reflection in it, while the woman tried to remain calm and collected. "Well, Aisha," he spoke as if to the blade in his hand, "I guess your life has gained value for us after all. But you realize," he continued, lifting his keen eyes to hers, "we must be absolutely certain you'll not speak to her about us."  
     "Of course," she nodded again. "You have my word."  
     Kaseem smiled pleasantly. "Yes, I know. That is what worries me." As her countenance began to shift towards fear, he raised a hand to grapple the guard's jaw and squeezed his fingers into her cheeks, pressing her tongue to spit outward. Nijad pulled her tight in his elbows and pinched her tongue between two fingers as his other hand received Kaseem's knife. She mumbled and turned her neck side to side as the sharp edge found contact, and in one quick slice, her eyes grew wide, her throat let out a shriek soon choked by blood, and her body fell limp in Nijad's grasp.  
     They quickly lowered her, and leaned her over, as Asim rushed in to address her wound—wiping and wadding and stuffing. Jasim remained on the lookout as Kaseem rubbed his dagger clean.  
     When all was right and Aisha lay asleep on the rug, wrists bound behind her back and ankles tightly tied, it was Assad who finally broke their silence as he looked over her body. "Can we have sex with her now?"

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be updated as the story advances.


End file.
